Witch Trials
by Mulan 11
Summary: In trying to find the spirit that ruined their lives, Sam and Dean become embroiled in a plot that could turn out to be even more sinister than the spirits they hunt for a living. In order to save a victim, they could end up sacrificing themselves...
1. Chapter 1: Fire, Smoke and Tears

_**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately the Winchesters don't belong to me, I just like to borrow them from time to time. No money is being made and no harm is intended, I just like playing with them._

_**A/N:** I live in England so the series is only just finishing here, meaning my fic might have some discrepancies with the series. I also had this idea and wrote this fic just after the episode 'Home', so nothing after this episode influenced my writing. This fic is roughly based in the period between 'Asylum' and 'Scarecrow.' _

I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave a review. Constructive criticism is extremely welcome.

**Witch Trials**

**Chapter 1: – Fire, Smoke and Tears.**

_FLASH:_

_A girl lay sprawled out on her bed, her chestnut-coloured curly hair carelessly strewn across her pillow, the bed sheets tangled round her waist. The clock on an antique dresser turned midnight._

_FLASH:_

_A blue glowing light surrounded the sleeping girl's slender frame. She thrashed fitfully in her sleep and sat bolt upright, as if coming out of a nightmare; perspiration shining on her forehead in the dim light. Looking down, the glowing light startled her. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief she glanced down again, seeing nothing. Shaking her head and sighing, she threw herself down onto her pillow wearily._

_FLASH:_

_It was daytime. Sunlight flooded the hallway as a door swung open to reveal a kitchen full of balloons, presents and smiles._

_FLASH:_

_It was night time. The girl entered her parent's bedroom. She froze, seeing her mother pinned against the wall behind her bed in a Crucifix position._

_FLASH:_

_The girl screamed as her frightened mother was consumed by flames and the room filled with thick, choking smoke, she collapsed to the floor, intermittently coughing between her desperate screams._

"Sam!" a voice called faintly. "Sammy!" Dean stood over his younger brother, worry etched across his tired but handsome face. He desperately tried to rouse his brother as he continued to toss and turn in his sleep letting out muffled yells. "Come on Sammy, wake up!"

Sam shot up straight, sitting on his bed drenched in a cold sweat, his tear-filled eyes staring, horrified, at the opposite wall.

"Whoa Sammy! It's me! It's Dean," Dean said urgently, sitting beside him on the bed and throwing his arms open as Sam collided with his chest. He put his arms on Sam's shaking shoulders and looked in to his brother's tormented face. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

The pair sat in a crummy motel room, its faded flowery wallpaper peeling off the paper-thin walls, the woodwork yellowing and chipped. The sparse furniture, old and tattered, was falling apart and the dilapidated beds creaked ominously under their muscular forms.

Sam, finally snapping out of the vision, shifted on the creaking bed and swallowed hard trying to focus. His head ached and the girl's desperate and terrified screams rang in his ears. He looked up into his brother's worried face. "Dean … it's happening again!" Sam started, desperately trying to untangle himself from the cheap motel sheets which were twisted round his legs.

"What's happening again?" Dean said quickly, trying to focus his brother's wandering attention. "You were screaming and thrashing around in your sleep."

"Dean I saw it! Whatever it was! The thing that killed mom and Jessica! It's happening again! I saw it! It attacked a woman, and her daughter … her daughter … she was screaming!"

Dean shook Sam roughly by the shoulders. "Sammy where … where is it?"

"I … I … I dunno," said Sam in confusion, his face creasing up in concentration. "But I saw it Dean! I saw it! It was like I was watching it as it happened in snapshots, in flashes," he said pleadingly, looking his brother in the eye.

"It's okay Sammy, it's okay," said Dean, roughly pulling his brother into a tense hug. Sam sagged against him wearily, breathing in Dean's scent, reminding him instantly of the Impala.

"It's Sam," Sam corrected weakly.

"Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying," Dean smirked, forcing a hollow laugh. He held his brother protectively, desperately wanting to take away the pain only Sam could experience with each passing vision. He felt like he was steadily losing his younger brother, like he was slipping through his fingers and he was powerless to stop it. Every vision brought something Dean couldn't understand, and all he could do was to watch on helplessly as Sam struggled to deal with his, _their_, complicated life.

Sam pulled away from his brother and there was a stiff silence, each avoiding the other's furtive gaze: knowing Dean wasn't big on sentimental moments. "What exactly did you see?" Dean asked finally.

"I saw this girl lying asleep in bed-"

"Why is it you always get visions about women?" Dean said, cracking a smile and trying, the only way he knew how, to lighten the tension that was slowly suffocating the room. "I guess it goes a fair way to making up for the pain they cause ya. Was she cute?"

Sam rolled his eyes trying to ignore his brother's weak attempt at infusing humour into the situation. "She was glowing," he muttered, knowing full well Dean was more troubled by the vision than he was letting on.

"Aye aye," said Dean with a mischievous grin.

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that." Dean continued to grin. Sam let out an audible groan and punched his brother on the shoulder playfully. "She was glowing, literally. You know, like blue!"

"Oh," said Dean, raising his eyebrow with a bemused expression on his face.

"Now would you use your upstairs brain for a while," muttered Sam, pointing to his head.

"Aww shut ya mouth," retorted Dean. "So besides the glowing girl, what else d'ya see?"

"It was midnight-"

"The witching hour," Dean muttered as Sam nodded.

"It was someone's birthday … and then I saw it! This girl walked into a bedroom and she saw, what I assume was her mother, pinned against the wall, and then the flames…"

"Pinned against the wall?" said Dean perplexed.

"Yes Dean. You know stuck to the wall unable to move," Sam started angrily, struggling out of bed.

"Okay okay, keep that mop you call hair on," Dean muttered, his brow furrowed.

"What are you thinking?" Sam said after an awkward silence.

"Well it's just that mom and Jessica were pinned to the ceiling."

"God Dean does it matter! The woman burst into flames!" Sam almost shouted.

"Sam, think … where did all this happen?"

Sam leant against the wall straining his mind, trying to think of anything that could tell him where his vision had been. "DAMN IT!" he shouted in frustration. "I … I can't … but it happened. I know it did. It was just like the dreams I had about Jess and our old house. I can feel it."

Dean reached for the laptop which sat on the dilapidated chest of draws next to the bed and pulled it onto his lap. Turning it on, he grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over his head roughly and ran a hand through his hair. Grumbling, he looked over at the clock. _'Five am,'_ he groaned inwardly.

* * *

"Are you sure it wasn't just your standard regular nightmare? I mean with Jess and all-" Dean sighed, looking up over the laptop at Sam who was pacing the room.

"DEAN," Sam shot at him crossly. "I know it happened!"

"Well I don't know what to tell ya buddy, but nothing has come up," said Dean heavily.

"Are you sure? Have you checked everywhere?" Sam continued, coming to a halt in front of Dean.

"Look man, enough is enough. I've been looking at this screen for-" he glanced over at the clock which read eight am "- three hours. I'm tired and my eyes are going funny."

"But Dean-" Sam began.

"Look Sam, I wanna get the thing that killed mom and Jess as much as you do, but we've got nothing to go on. Let's just go and get some breakfast and try again later," he said sliding off the bed and stretching his stiff limbs. "It's early, if anything happened last night, the story isn't gonna be up for a while yet and until we've got something more concrete to go on we can't do anything."

Sam yanked on a pair of trainers and followed Dean, who had grabbed his jacket and keys, out the door. His face creased up trying to think of anything that could help them.

* * *

The following night, Dean's mobile phone, which he'd abandoned on the bedside table, vibrated loudly, its buzz magnifying and echoing around the near silent motel room.

"Uhhhhh," Dean groaned sluggishly, as he threw his arm out clumsily and knocked over the lamp. It fell with an ear-splitting crash which pierced the quiet of the room and woke Sam up with a start.

"Shit Dean!" Sam muttered through clenched teeth, as his tensed muscles, poised and ready for attack, relaxed and he sank back onto his pillow.

Shut up bitch," Dean replied, as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Jerk," Sam muttered, grabbing hold of his pillow, and launching it at Dean's head with a grin. "It's four am dude; we've been in bed less than two hours. That better not be one of your innumerable girlfriends!"

Dean flashed him one of his most mischievous and cheeky smiles before turning his attention to the phone. He flicked it open, ruffling his hair with his free hand, and clicked on the new message icon. As he read the message the smile slid from his face. He sat up straight in his bed, shrugging off the overwhelming tiredness which was struggling to seize control of his limbs.

"It's from Dad."

"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Sam said in alarm.

Dean held out his hand, silently offering the phone to Sam.

"Covesville, North Carolina?" he muttered, looking up at Dean, his forehead creased in concentration.

"Read on," Dean urged.

Sam scrolled down. _Dean, I need you and Sam to check out Covesville, North Carolina. I'd go myself but I have a lead I need to follow up on. I can't say anymore. But it's important Dean! It's an order!_ Shaking his head slightly in frustration and biting back the bitter feelings that welled up inside him, he handed the phone back to Dean and reached for the laptop.

Dean slunk round the bed and sat down beside him, glancing over his brother's shoulder as Sam searched out the appropriate websites. Scrolling down to the local news reports he scanned the articles until his eyes hit on the one he dreaded seeing.

Jumping off the bed as though he'd been electrocuted and bashing his brother in the chin, he fell over his feet trying to pull on his jeans and T –shirt. Getting in a total mess, Dean broke down into hysterics before finally untangling his struggling brother.

"There," he muttered, still grinning as he sank back down onto the bed. Sam stood in the dim light looking flustered. "That hurt you know," Dean continued, rubbing his jaw gingerly before grabbing hold of the map which was flung haphazardly on the dilapidated chair in the corner.

"Dean move your fat ass, we gotta go!" Sam muttered, as he searched the messy floor for his jacket.

"North Carolina is a two and a half day drive across country Sam," he said as he scanned the map hastily. "We need more than a couple of hours sleep before we do this."

"Dean we don't have time. The thing that killed mom and Jessica is there. I can feel it. Look at the article, it says a woman died under mysterious circumstances last night and was found by her daughter. We have to hurry."

"Sam listen, if it was the thing that killed mom and Jess wouldn't dad have gone there himself instead of following up some lead?"

"Dean we don't have time for this, COME ON!"

"When the hell did you get so eager to hunt?" said Dean, his temper rising with Sam's impatience.

"When did you grow a brain?" Sam bit back crossly, pulling on a trainer. "I mean when did you think before running blind into a job on dad's orders?"

Dean's cheeks flushed, his pride wounded. Sam watched with cruel satisfaction. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of his older brother and knew how to push his buttons without causing a full scale war.

Dean looked away, swallowing down the sharp stab of hurt and anger that rose within him and pulled on his jeans and shirt with more force than was really necessary.

An oppressive silence filled the poky motel room as Dean threw his few possessions into his duffel bag and stomped on his boots, avoiding Sam's penetrating gaze.

Sam watched his brother, guilt beginning to crawl up his spine and slowly strangle him. His temper, still not fully under control, refused to let him back down and instead he turned away and started scooping up the remaining bits and pieces which were strewn across the tired furniture and worn carpet.

Dean threw open the motel door and stalked out to the car, shoving the bags carelessly into the back seat before returning for the laptop and their dad's journal.

"You can do the honours and wake up the grumpy night manager," Dean muttered coldly, refusing to look at his brother as he climbed into the car and chucked the key at him.

Sam opened his mouth but no sound would come out. Closing it smartly, he turned and headed for the office. '_Be damned if I'm gonna apologise_,' he thought as he rapped on the desk, behind which the manager was asleep in his chair. "Dean wouldn't cave in so easily so be damned if I do," he muttered under his breath stubbornly.

* * *

Six hours later Dean and Sam were sat in silence, each refusing to speak to the other, having only the Metallica tape for company. Dean was still licking his wounded pride whilst Sam, who was sitting in the passenger seat, was looking determinedly out of the window.

After an hour of snatching sideways glances at Sam, Dean swerved off the road and onto the grassy verge. "Your turn," he muttered coolly, as he kicked open the driver's door.

Sam glanced at him, guilt eating away as he realised he had gone too far, pushing Dean to the limit. The Impala was Dean's pride and joy, he would never normally allow so much as a finger nail to mark his precious baby, never mind a muddy, dirty boot to be slammed into the door.

Getting out of the car and swallowing his pride with great difficulty, he followed Dean, who was stretching his legs.

"Look man … I'm sorry … I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did," Dean interrupted coldly.

"But-"

"Sam, we've had this conversation before. I know what you think of me. How you get frustrated cos I follow dad's orders, so don't give me that bullshit cos I know you aren't sorry."

They stood in an uneasy silence, looking over the flat expanse of land which stretched out for miles. Sam, swallowing hard against the glass-like pride which rose within him, opened his mouth to speak. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you the way I did. I didn't mean to mock your intelligence and call you a brainless baboon." This raised a smile from Dean. "I'm just tired of all this," he said, looking at the Impala which doubled for their home. "I just miss waking up in a house and a bed I know-"

"With a woman wrapped around you," Dean broke in, cracking a smile.

Sam tried to suppress the smile which twitched at the corners of his mouth and failed miserably. "Well yeah actually," he grinned, punching his brother in the shoulder.

"Lucky for you, you get this handsome good looking devil instead," said Dean, flashing him his most charming smile. Sam rolled his eyes and was caught off guard as Dean pounced on him and ruffled his hair playfully, Sam's head caught in a headlock, the tension between the two dying instantly.

"Get off you idiot!" Sam laughed, pushing Dean off and instinctively smoothing a hand over his hair. "We okay then dude?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered light-heartedly. "Now get in the damn car and drive. I need some sleep!"

Sam shook his head in amusement at Dean's adamant refusal to show any kind of feeling, preferring instead to project his bravado tough guy image.

"You coming or what?" called Dean from the car.


	2. Chapter 2: Confirmation

_**Disclaimer: - **The Winchesters don't belong to me; I just like playing with them. _

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_**A/N:-** Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know I'm on the right track. Here's the second chapter._

**Chapter 2: – Confirmation**

"This has gotta be it," Dean muttered, looking out of the windshield at the approaching houses, having seen nothing but fields for over half an hour.

"If we drive any further we'll be in the Atlantic," Sam muttered sleepily from under a jacket. Neither of them had slept much having been on the road for nearly three days.

"No shit Sherlock," Dean laughed cuffing his brother as he turned onto the road which led into the town.

"Fuck off Dean," Sam groaned, shifting in his seat and trying to go back to sleep.

"No way man, you dragged us half way across the country for this so you better wake up right now," he said, turning up the tape player from which Led Zeppelin blared out. He reached over and grabbed a handful of Sam's clothes trying to pull him up into sitting position.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Sam grudgingly sat up squinting in the harsh sunlight.

"Here," said Dean, handing him a polystyrene cup of black coffee. "It's probably cold, but should do the business."

Sam took the cup and gulped down the lukewarm liquid, swallowing hard against the nauseating sensation which revolted against the sludge his brother called coffee.

Dean smiled with satisfaction as his brother's face contorted. "You better not hurl in here," he muttered pushing Sam towards the open window. "There you go buddy," he said, patting him on the shoulder with an amused smirk.

Sam leant his head against the window frame and breathed deeply. "Don't even think about it," he muttered, as Dean opened his mouth.

"What? I didn't say anything?" Dean grinned.

"Yeah well you were thinking it!"

"Great, first you get friggin ESP and now you're turning into psychic Missouri! What next-"

"I'll shove a flagpole up your ass if you don't shut up."

"Ouch someone's got their boxers in a twist. They are boxers right? You don't go in for any of those briefs or G-string type thingy's."

"DEAN!" Sam snapped.

"Okay okay, just asking," he said, holding up his hand in defeat, though continuing to grin out of the windshield.

* * *

Sitting behind the counter of the local surf shack, a girl with curly chestnut-brown hair pulled back roughly in a bun sighed with boredom. She wore a bright aqua vest top, faded jeans and flip-flops. The shop had been empty all morning and she had cleaned everything at least five times.

Finally giving up hope of any customers or her father's appearance so she could have a lunch break, she grabbed the keys off the counter and headed for the door, sticking up a note in the window reading '_Will be back in five minutes. If it's urgent, I'm across the road at the café._' Locking up, she walked across the street towards the café as a classic black car turned the corner.

* * *

Dean drove the car slowly up the road glancing round at the white-washed houses and businesses which lined the street.

"That must be it," said Sam, pointing to a small surf shack on their left near to where a girl was crossing the street.

Dean pulled up into a small gravel car park overlooking the beach and turned off the engine. Leaning back he groaned as he rubbed his stiff neck and shoulders. "That has to be the longest trip we've ever done," he muttered, his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, as he pushed open the passenger door and let a gentle breeze blow through the hot and stuffy car. Sighing as he let out a deep breath, he slouched down into his seat, the hot sun dancing upon his face. "It's been a long time since I felt that breeze."

"Ehh?" said Dean, cracking open an eye. "What you rambling on about peewee?"

Sam threw an arm out, clubbing his brother in the stomach. He smiled as Dean drew in a sharp intake of breath and doubled over.

"Aww man, that was a bit below the belt," he said with a hollow laugh.

"Yeah, so is your brain!"

"Very funny," Dean muttered sarcastically, as he pushed open the car door and climbed out. "Come on smart ass, we got a job to do."

* * *

"Hey Bob," the girl smiled, as she entered the café and stood playing absent-mindedly with her detailed necklace, a delicate bracelet tinkling as it slid up her arm.

Bob, a rather short and plump man in his mid-fifties with silvery hair looked round with a broad smile across his ruddy face. "Alex!" he exclaimed. "Just the person I wanted to see." He threw aside the cloth he had been using to wipe down the already sparkling bar and motioned her forwards.

The café-restaurant was a small but bright and airy place. The bar lined the left hand side wall and was made of a deep, rich and highly varnished mahogany. Several booths lined the opposite wall with chintz chairs and spindly tables making up the rest of the mishmash of furniture.

"How are you doing hun?"

"Okay, I guess," Alex replied distantly, moving towards the bar and climbing onto a bar stool.

"And your father?" Bob continued, pouring Alex a glass of real lemonade and placing it in front of her.

Alex looked down at the bar, her shoulders sagging. She pulled at the elastic band which held her hair up in a bun, making her curls drop roughly onto her shoulders, hiding her face.

"I dunno," she sighed sadly. "Ever since the-" she gulped, "he's locked himself away in his study. He can't bear to be near me." _'And I don't blame him,' _she added mentally.

Bob gave her a weak smile.

"So how's business?" she continued in a falsely cheery voice, trying to change the subject.

"See for yourself," Bob grinned, pointing at the empty café.

"Same over the road," Alex sighed, shaking her head.

"Always the same this time of year," Bob muttered, dusting off the till. "So what can I get you?"

"The usual," Alex smiled, though it wasn't reflected in her eyes.

"Coming right up," came the reply, as he walked down the counter to where a door leading to the kitchen stood open, wiping his hands on his crisp white apron.

Alex followed him down the counter, taking a step across the bar entrance.

"Ahahah," Bob muttered with a grin. "Where do you think you're going missy?"

"I was just-"

"Back that side of the counter if you don't mind," he laughed, trying to sound pompous to which Alex rolled her eyes.

* * *

Sam stepped out of the car, pushing the door closed behind him before following Dean up to the surf shack.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Nearly three days of travelling and they're out."

"Yeah, but the sign says they're across the street and I'm starving," Sam grinned.

They crossed the street and opened the café door, Sam instantly recognising the girl who was standing by the bar as the one from his vision.

* * *

"And stay away from my candy jar," Bob called from the kitchen, as Alex made her way back around the bar and leant over the counter for the jar. "They're for employees only."

"I … I would never dream of touching it," Alex tried innocently.

"Like hell you wouldn't," came the good-natured reply.

Alex smiled, giving her first proper smile since her birthday nearly a week before. "Anyway I do work here occasionally," she laughed meekly. Bob was always able to put a smile on her face with his easy manners and relaxed charm.

"Not right now you ain't. So keep those paws off!"

Still grinning gently, Alex took a seat at the bar and looked round as the door behind her swung open. Gazing at the two newcomers, she noted that one was slightly taller than the other, but both were handsome, though the pair looked tired and drawn, like she herself felt. The taller of the two wore a casual t-shirt, a pair of jeans and sneakers, whilst the shorter of the two sported a black jacket, t-shirt, jeans and boots.

Alex raised her eyebrow in amusement, thinking neither of them fitted the beach guy look, and looked rather grungy and dirty, both needing a shave. "Take a seat," she said, as they hesitated by the entrance. She turned back to the open kitchen door, shouting "Bob, you've got customers."

Bob popped his head around the doorway with a frying pan in his hand. "Well you gonna help me or not?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed behind the bar," Alex smiled cheekily.

"Smart ass," he muttered good-humouredly.

"Why thank you," Alex said, forcing her most charming smile, which wasn't reflected in her eyes.

Bob pointed a spatula at her playfully and with his other hand threw her an apron, trying to ignore the tormented expression he could see visibly in his young friend's eyes. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said Alex, tying the apron round her waist and making her way to the other side of the bar. "What can I get you?" she said, turning her attention to the two men.

"Two beers," Dean answered, wearing his most irresistible smile.

"Oi Bob, you better serve, they want alcohol."

"For god's sake Alex, I'm busy."

"Your licence," she shrugged, whisking out two bottles of chilled beer from the refrigerator and took the tops off with two nifty movements.

"You've done that before," Dean grinned. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam."

Looking at the pair lost in thought she muttered "I'm Alex." An amused smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she observed Dean's cheeky eyes, her eyebrow raised. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Yeah can we get some food?" Sam asked politely, glancing at his brother with a disbelieving look.

"What would you like?" she asked, trying to keep her own wandering gaze from glancing out of the glass windows towards the blackened upstairs floor of her house across the street.

"What's good?" Dean grinned, not noticing her wandering attention.

"Well Bob's specialty is a full blown BLT. Hot bacon, lettuce and tomato on a lightly toasted sandwich," she said, forcing her attention back to the two young men sitting in front of her. From the kitchen she could smell the cooking bacon as the aroma began to fill the air.

"We'll get two of those then please," Sam answered, hearing his stomach groan at the delicious smell wafting out of the kitchen.

Alex headed down to the open door asking Bob for two more sandwiches.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Sam whispered sharply.

"What?" tried Dean innocently.

"You know full well what," he hissed, rolling his eyes as Alex walked back up the bar.

Bending down and taking the candy jar, she grabbed a handful of sweets chucking some to Dean and Sam, who were sitting on stools at the other side of the counter, with a mischievous smile before replacing it hurriedly as Bob's footsteps came closer.

"Here you go Alex," he said, coming out of the kitchen and handing her a bag with her sandwich in it. "And you better not have touched my jar," he said, raising his eyebrow as he looked at it critically.

"Course I haven't," she said, smiling innocently as she gave him a quick heartfelt hug. "Anyway I better get back," she said, her spirits faltering as she looked towards the window. "Knowing my luck there'll be a mad rush or dad will be on the war path." She grimaced as she undid the apron and threw it back to him before leaving the café, running over the street and disappearing into the surf shack, leaving Dean, Sam and Bob to stare after her in silence.

* * *

"Where are you guys from?" Bob asked, turning his attention to the two young men sitting in front of him and trying to make idle chitchat.

"A bit of everywhere really," said Sam, glancing round at the deserted café. "We move around a lot. Don't like staying in the same place too long."

"Sounds interesting," Bob smiled. "I'm originally from a big city myself."

"Well this is about as far removed from a big city as you can get," Dean grinned.

"Yeah, well I fancied a change of scene," he muttered, neatening up the bottles of alcohol which lined the wall, trying not to remember what had made him leave. "So what can I get you boys?" he smiled, turning back to the pair and began wiping down the bar with his cloth.

"Two of your BLT's and two orders of fries please," Sam replied, looking at Dean who, trying to sound disinterested, took up the challenge of probing the man for information.

"Say, what happened over there?" Dean pointed at the burned out window of the house above the surf shack through the café-restaurant window. "I noticed it as we drove in to town."

Bob's hand paused mid-wipe. He looked up at the pair critically. Shrugging off the niggling sensation in the pit of his stomach he shrugged slightly. "It's such a shame," he began with a sad smile, the twinkle he had held in his eye just moments before, vanishing. "There was a terrible fire. Poor woman died."

"Do they know what caused it?" Sam said giving him a penetrating, sympathetic expression, a look that Dean, to his annoyance and his amazement found worked like a charm on people who had information they needed.

Bob looked at the pair again, his eyes looking over them critically, suspicious of their curiosity. Looking from the shorter of the two, who seemed somewhat nosy and cocky, to the taller, who seemed to be genuinely interested and attentive, he found himself saying, "No. It's a bit of a mystery."

Dean shook his head, grinning inwardly. _'I really need to get Sam to teach me that look,_' he thought. _'The way he's always able to get people, no matter how suspicious they are, to open up to him is genius. Though I'm not gonna tell him that,' _he added as an afterthought.

Bob sighed, his eyes drifting towards the windows, as he reluctantly continued. "Alex, the girl that was just here, was the one that found her and saw what happened, but the Sheriff and her father believe she was in such shock that she doesn't know what she saw."

"How do you mean," Sam asked, snatching a glance at Dean who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and looked at his brother uneasily.

"Well she seems to think the fire wasn't accidental. She thinks … he stammered, "She thinks someone or something was in the room with them and did it."

"Whoa," said Sam under his breath, trying to sound shocked.

"Sounds crazy doesn't it?" sighed Bob, shaking his head as he looked down at the bar and continued to clean it.

"Do you believe her?" asked Dean, as tentatively as he could muster.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Bob sighed. "Anyway I've said too much. I don't want to scare off my only customers." He forced a smile. "I'll cook you guys your food. I bet you're starving." Bob turned and made his way back to the kitchen leaving Dean and Sam alone.

"Dean, that was the girl from my vision," Sam muttered in a harsh whisper as soon as Bob was out of sight. "I'm telling ya Dean it was her!"

"Great, so what have we got to work with here," Dean muttered under his breath, keeping his eye on the door.

"Dean, it's the thing that killed mom and Jess!" Sam snapped under his breath, trying not to be overheard.

"Sammy something doesn't feel right."

"How can it not feel right," Sam struggled, trying to restrain his anger. "And it's Sam!"

"Gut feeling," Dean replied, trying to stay calm.

"Dean I saw it!"

Dean shook his head in frustration. "It just doesn't feel right. Couldn't it be something else? I dunno a spirit or something? I mean you saw Alex glow for god's sake!"

"I-"

"Well here they are," Bob said, killing the conversation stone dead as he placed the two sandwiches and fries in front of them.

After they had devoured their meals in an uncomfortable silence and Bob had cleared away, Dean and Sam headed back across the street to the surf shack. The tense silence dissolved as they passed a display board advertising surf lessons and entered the shop.


	3. Chapter 3: Dean's humiliation

_Thanks for the reviews guys. Here's Chapter 3 - there's some nice Dean and Sam stuff in here. I will say no more :P_

_Disclaimer: Normal disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 3: – Dean's humiliation**

Dean pushed open the door and stepped into the shop, looking round at the array of surf boards, body boards, wetsuits and other beach gear. Sam, squeezing past him, urged him towards the counter at the far side of the shop, where Alex sat reading a magazine.

"Hi," he said brightly, as he looked round to find Sam seemingly absorbed in the surf boards nearest the door.

Closing the magazine and looking up, Alex said "Hi, can I help you, again?"

Putting on his most charming smile and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he asked, "Umm do you give surfing lessons?"

Frowning slightly, she glanced down at a picture of herself and her mother sitting on a surfboard together in the sea, her mother's arms wrapped around her as they both smiled for the camera. Looking back at Dean she muttered "I'm not sure … I'm pretty much running the shop on my own at the moment … I don't think I have time." Her eyes drifted to the photograph again which had been taken just three weeks before. She could still feel her mother's arms around her waist and shoulders. The day had been hot and sunny and she could still smell the coconut suntan lotion her mother had used.

"Nice photo," said Dean with a genuine smile, as he followed her gaze to the picture which stood in a simple silver frame beside the cash register.

Alex smiled sadly, her outstretched fingers brushing the glass.

"You like to surf?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she barely whispered, a light briefly sparkling in her eyes. "Well I used to."

"I'd love to give it a go," said Sam from across the shop, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He stood admiring a particularly nice board with a blue design across it. His eyes followed the electric blue as it carved its way through the crisp off-white surface, ending in a magnificent flourish with a sweeping curve. An eye-catching jet black wave completed its striking image. "I'd kick his ass," he laughed, as he dragged his eyes away from the board and pointed at his brother.

"In your dreams peewee," Dean shot back with a smirk.

"Wanna bet," Sam grinned, his competitive instinct kicking in.

"You're on," he laughed. "That is if you would give us some lessons," he said turning back to face Alex.

"Okay, okay," she surrendered. "Who am I to get in the way of macho bravado?"

"I'm offended," Dean grinned.

"You look it," came back the sarcastic reply. "Are you guys beginners?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered.

"Do you have any gear?"

"No," said Sam, shaking his head as he moved closer to counter.

"Well come by tomorrow morning and we'll pick out your gear. I have some stuff to do in the afternoon though, so you'll have to wait till the day after tomorrow for the lessons. Is that okay?"

"Cool", Dean shrugged. By the way, is there any place we can stay?"

"Well there's a motel just up the road and on your right," she said pointing up the hill to their left. It's not too far away.

"Thanks," Sam replied politely, before heading for the door followed by Dean.

* * *

Once outside, the pair glanced up and down the street making sure the coast was clear before sneaking round the side of the house looking for a way in. Finding an upstairs window open with a trellis underneath, Sam began to climb up it, Dean giving him a leg up.

"Urgh man, get your ass out of my face," he muttered under his breath.

"Keep it down," Sam hissed, as he hauled himself through the window. Crouching down beside it, he quickly scanned the room, checking the place was clear. Looking around more slowly, he found himself in a bedroom with light cream walls that were tainted grey from the smoke caused by the fire a week before. An old iron bed frame took up a large proportion of the room, next to which, sat an old ornate dresser with a mirror and a small alarm clock he knew he had seen before.

"Sam, where the hell are you?" came a harsh whisper, breaking Sam's quiet reverie.

Shaking himself, trying to wash away the dark cloud which was bubbling up inside him, he stood up and leant out of the window reaching down to give Dean a hand. "God you weigh a ton," he groaned as he heaved him up.

"Just pull me in man before someone sees my ass hanging out this bloody window."

"Okay okay," he laughed, dragging Dean into the room, both falling to the floor on top of one another with a clatter.

"Ooo Sammy," Dean grinned, looking down at his younger brother, who lay underneath him.

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed him off roughly, muttering "Get off me you creep."

"Oww," Dean groaned with a grin, "Feisty."

"Stop being a jerk, we've got a job to do!" Sam pulled Dean to his feet and crept soundlessly across the bedroom, passing the built in wardrobe and a wicker chair, as he headed for the door. Opening it slightly and listening for any sound of movement, he turned back, mouthing, "All clear."

They crept across the landing, passing a bathroom and another bedroom before reaching the boarded up room next to the stairs. Forcing one of the boards away from the wall, Dean bent down, removing a flashlight from inside his jacket, and crawled through the gap, Sam following close behind.

"Hurry up," Sam muttered, as Dean pulled out the small hand-sized scanner and turned it on. Sam glanced around the blackened and burnt room, taking in every aspect critically, his eyes looking over instinctively at the wall he'd seen in his vision.

Dean, beside him, slowly began moving further into the room, looking down intently at the machine clasped in his hand as it gave out readings.

"Whatever did this is long gone," said Dean, looking up at Sam, his scanner reading nothing much out of the ordinary.

Sam looked round at the room. "It's not the thing that killed mom and Jess," he said.

"What?" said Dean, looking at his brother sharply. "How d'ya know?"

"I can feel it. You were right. Something else did this."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "Don't tell me, that weird ESP shit right!"

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Trust me okay?"

"Fine," said Dean shrugging. He turned towards the door snatching a glance back at his brother studying him with concern as he slid his flashlight and the scanner back into his jacket pocket. "Let's get out of here; this place gives me the creeps." He walked over to the boarded up door, pushing the loose board aside and crawled back out. Sam hesitated, looking round the room one last time before following him.

* * *

"So you got anything," Dean asked several hours later, as he opened the bathroom door wearing a towel to find Sam sitting on one of the twin beds of the cheap motel room, with the laptop on his lap.

"Not much," Sam replied, looking up in annoyance as Dean ran a hand through his wet hair, showering him with water droplets. "Do you mind?"

Dean pulled a face and took up the notepad Sam had been using to make notes. "So no other strange deaths, disappearances or unexplained events? Great!" he muttered sarcastically.

"Get dressed and keep looking. I need a shower," said Sam as he put the laptop aside and made his way to the bathroom. "And you better not have used up all the hot water!" he shouted back, as he closed the door.

"Yeah, whatever bitch."

"Jerk!" came the muffled reply.

* * *

"Still nothing?" said Sam, as he walked out of the bathroom half an hour later.

"Nothing," said Dean with a gloomy expression, "Other than some hell-raising teens."

"Library it is then," Sam smirked, "After we get our surf gear tomorrow."

"What fun!" Dean muttered sarcastically, groaning inwardly at the delighted expression evident in Sam's eyes.

Sam grinned widely, knowing his brother hated the deathly quiet of libraries. "Let's go get something to eat," he suggested, grabbing his jacket off the chair and leading the way out to the car.

* * *

"You got anything bookworm," said Dean, the following afternoon as they sat in the library. A nearby librarian gave them an angry glance.

Walking towards him with an armful of old tatty books, Sam muttered, "Maybe. You start on these; I need to go through town records. Oh and Dean, keep your voice down!"

Dean scowled as his brother smirked with delight at his discomfort. Groaning inwardly as he turned his attention to the pile of books before him, he opened the nearest one on folklore and began scanning its contents.

"I can't believe you spent nearly four years doing this," Dean moaned, as he reached the hundredth page.

Sam grinned. "Welcome to the joys of higher education-"

"And bookworm fulfilment," Dean finished.

Sam thumped him on the shoulder with a playful grin. "Don't dismiss it Dean, libraries can be a good place to pick up girls."

Dean gave him a look saying, "Yeah right."

"Where do you think I met Jess!"

Dean studied him before grinning "That's my boy."

Rolling his eyes, Sam started on the next lot of town records, scanning the names of the town's births and deaths.

Sitting in silence for half an hour, the pair ploughed through books, newspapers, records and journals.

"Other than some superstition and witchcraft in the 17th and 18th centuries I can't find anything unusual," said Dean, snapping the last book shut and tossing it aside on the desk.

"Why don't you go ask the librarian then? Say we're doing a paper on local folklores and legends or something?"

"That's more your forte college boy."

Receiving a rude finger gesture but nothing more, Dean forced himself to his feet and walked through the maze of old oak tables, chairs and bookcases, heading for the counter where a librarian, who looked as old as the library itself, sat working.

"Hi," he said, as he reached the counter and smiled.

The librarian, a sour-faced old woman with white hair and large black beady eyes looked up. "Yes young man?"

Dean shuddered involuntarily, creeped out by the old woman. _'Why do librarians always have to be old and creepy'_ he thought, before switching his brain in gear. "I was wondering whether you could help me," he said, forcing himself to look calm. "I'm doing a research paper on local folklore and witchcraft and was hoping you could point me in the right direction … please."

The woman, looking bored, said, "Aren't you the researcher! Isn't it your job to find out information, not mine?"

From behind him, Dean heard Sam snort and hastily turn it into a cough, though unable to disguise his grin. Dean glanced behind him with a scowl and Sam picked up a book and hid his face behind it quickly. Turning back to the old woman he tried to change tact.

"To be honest with you," he said, glancing at her name tag. "Beatrice. I was wondering whether you knew any other stories, you know, other than what I've already found in the books."

"Excuse me?" Beatrice said sharply.

"Well some stories are passed down through the generations rather than written about and I thought you might know," he tried with his most charming smile.

"Well you were wrong," she said, standing up quickly. "There are no stories around here other than the ones you'll find in those books. Now excuse me, I'm busy." With that the old lady bustled away, leaving Dean to stare after her perplexed.

"That was weird," he muttered, as he returned to his seat opposite Sam.

"What, your charm's never failed you before?" Sam grinned, looking up from the piles of paper in front of him. Dean kicked him under the table, making him curse under his breath.

"No smart ass. She was really cold and cagy, not like that man in the café. "You got anything yet?"

"Not really, other than a couple of disappearances, but I'd guess they just moved away from the area, it's not uncommon."

"Why is it librarians are always old and creepy?" said Dean, shuddering.

"They're not," Sam laughed. "Just the one's you have to flirt with."

Dean's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Thumping his brother in the shoulder, he muttered, "Come on, let's get out of here. I need a drink."

* * *

"You ready?" Alex asked the following day, as Dean and Sam parked the Impala and walked over to where her open-top Jeep held three surf boards.

"Yeah," said Sam grinning, as Dean fidgeted uncomfortably in his surf shorts and t-shirt.

"It's been a long time since those legs saw sunlight," Alex grinned, as she followed Sam's look, making Dean flush. Handing each of the brothers a surfboard and locking her car, she led the way down to the beach.

Throwing down her towel and taking off her vest top and sandals, she waited by the surf for Sam and Dean. Grabbing a hair band from her surf shorts' pocket and tying her hair up in a rough bun, she watched as they each removed their shirts and headed towards her.

"Right, the surf isn't strong at this side of the beach, so it should be easier for you guys to learn in." She stepped into the surf, a wave of sadness strangling her as she remembered the last time she'd been in, accompanied by her mother. Shaking off the choking feeling with difficulty, she waded into the sea until she was waist deep and beckoned the pair to follow.

"Right, now get on your boards and paddle out like this," she instructed, as she lay on her board and swam out into the bay, her sadness fading to a small niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The water was cool but refreshing; the sun glittering upon its rough surface as they headed out of their depth.

"Right, now when a wave comes, you need to paddle hard and push yourself up onto your board, taking a crouching position, leaning ever so slightly forwards to keep up with the wave." Sitting up on her board, a leg either side, Alex watched as they each pushed up on their boards at her instructions, Sam picking it up a lot quicker than Dean.

After an hour of practicing and satisfied they could form the correct stance in the shallow surf, she paddled her way over to the other side of the cove where the wind blew straight up the beach off the sea, pushing up the rougher surf and bigger waves.

"Right practice is over. Now when you catch one of these waves make sure you have a firm grip on your board or else you're gonna go flying." She smiled as she watched Sam and Dean struggle against the waves. "Hurry up!"

"Okay, you guys ready?" she asked as the pair caught up with her.

"Yes," came the unified response.

Smirking, she said, "Here it comes. And remember, get a good footing and ride in, don't force it or you'll lose your balance. "GO!"

Sam and Dean paddled forwards hard as the wave approached, and got ready to push up. Both lost their balance and fell off backwards into the waves.

Laughing, Alex paddled over to make sure they were okay. "Harder than it looks isn't it," she said, as Sam coughed and Dean rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I didn't expect you to do it the first time. That would have been a miracle!"

After another hour of trying, Sam had had several successful attempts, though Dean was still losing his balance.

"You've just got to find your centre," Alex smiled, as he frowned in frustration. "Watch!"

Paddling out a little further and getting into position, she kicked her feet and pushed forwards, catching the wave and drawing her feet onto her board smoothly. Finding her balance, she tilted the board slightly and surfed across the wave, all the time holding her crouching position. She gently turned the board as she rode the wave all the way to the beach, where Sam stood waiting.

"Just find your centre!" Alex shouted back to Dean, as she made her way out of the water and stood next to Sam holding her board.

Waiting for a wave and paddling furiously as the next came towards him, Dean forced himself to his feet and found his balance. "YES!" he shouted, punching the air in triumph as he surfed towards the beach.

"DEAN DON'T!" Alex shouted, as he instinctively stood up straighter and consequently lost his balance, falling backwards off his board and went under.

Sam doubled over in hysterics as his brother surfaced only to be dunked by another wave. Alex bit her lip trying not to smile as Dean, unable to get on his board fast enough, got swallowed up by wave after wave.

Two guys, who had just pulled up in their truck and had taken out their surfboards, watching Dean's unsuccessful attempts to get back on his board, walked down the beach laughing.

"Hey Alex, are you teaching the yuppies to surf or flounder?" said one, whilst the other continued to laugh.

"Hi Seth, Adam," Alex acknowledged, biting back her annoyance as they walked towards her.

Seth had short curly blonde hair and wore navy blue surf shorts. Adam, standing next to him, had an unkempt crop of light brown hair and was wearing green surf shorts.

Alex rolled her eyes as the pair, continuing to laugh, made their way into the surf, passing a bedraggled Dean who, looking like a drowned rat, was struggling out of the water, his board floating abandoned nearby.

"You okay?" Sam grinned, as Dean hauled himself up the beach and flopped down on the sand, breathing heavily. "I did warn ya!"

"Shut it Sammy." Sam bit down on his bottom lip trying not to grin. Realisation dawned on Dean's face. "You little shit. You've done this before!" he said, flushing red.

"Only once! While I was at Stanford!" Sam laughed.

Dean threw his head against the sand, letting out a loud exhausted groan. "God, I need a drink! Is there a decent bar in this town?"

Raising her eyebrow in annoyance, Alex inclined her head slightly. "Yeah, 'The Deep.' It's just up the cliff on the left of the main road. It looks out over the cove."


	4. Chapter 4: Blood, Sweat and Tears

_**Disclaimer:** The Winchesters don't belong to me. I just like playing with them. :P_

_**A/N:** Thank you to all those who have read and especially to those who have reviewed. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Here is Chapter 4, please please review. Constructive criticism isextremely welcome as it helpsme improve my writing, and helps with the direction of the story. :)_

Chapter 4: - Blood, Sweat and Tears.

Slamming the front door shut behind her later that night, Alex stormed over to her car, flung open the driver's door and turned on the engine. She thumped her head against the steering wheel in frustration and shouted in fury as she put the car into gear and slammed her foot down on the accelerator, tires screeching and gravel flicking up behind her.

"I can't believe he won't bloody believe me," she muttered furiously, as she pulled out onto the road. "Thinks I'm going insane! Well you try watching your mother burst into flames." Angry tears filled her eyes as she drove across town and pulled into the parking lot next to 'The Deep.'

Locking the car and stalking across the tarmac, she pushed open the bar door, and headed straight for the counter, ordering a drink, her anger and frustration slowly ebbing away.

"Hey Alex!"

She turned slightly in her seat, groaning inwardly. '_Can't I just have a quiet drink and be left in peace,' _she thought dismally.

"Hi Seth," she sighed, her face tired and drawn.

"Still having trouble with the yuppies?" he grinned.

"Give it a rest," she muttered wearily, fed up by his ill attempts at humour.

"Sorry," said Seth, holding up his hands good-naturedly. "Just trying to make you smile."

Guilt crept up inside her, fighting against her bad mood. She was about to apologise when Adam, who had been sitting with his girlfriend, walked up behind Seth and clapped him on the shoulder. "How's the drowned rat?" he said looking down at her.

Her temper bated, reared its ugly head, quashing her guilt with ease. Shaking her head in frustration, she moved off her stool, knocked back her drink and headed for the door.

"Shit man," said Seth, clapping Adam across the back of the head. He ran after her as she left the bar and crossed the car park. "Alex stop! Don't leave cos of us. We were just having a laugh."

"Oww," Adam groaned suddenly, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Seth stopped and looked at him.

"Christ," he cried out, clasping his head in his hands, his eyes rolling.

Alex turned back, and hurried towards them, concern etched across her tanned face. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked tentatively, her hands outstretched, her annoyance beaten down by her concern.

They both looked up, hands dropping to their sides. "Sure!" came the response.

"Umm … are you sure?" she said, looking doubtful as they nodded. "Well see you around then," she shrugged and turned back to her car.

"Hang on, where you going?" they both called, hurrying after her.

"Home," she said, raising her eyebrow bemused.

"Don't go," Seth pleaded, grabbing her arm.

"What the hell has gotten in to you?" she exclaimed, shaking him off.

"Leave her alone asshole," Adam snapped angrily shoving him hard.

Alex stared in shock as Seth shoved Adam back, his eyes changing colour from hazel to a shocking bright blue.

"What the hell …" Alex muttered under her breath, as she took a step back in alarm.

"You leave her alone," Seth shouted, smashing the bottle of beer he held in his hand against a nearby car and holding it out threateningly.

* * *

"Right, where did she say that bar was?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam who was sitting in the passenger seat. 

"Just up here and on the left somewhere," Sam muttered, as he tried to change the cassette tape.

"Don't even think about it," Dean muttered, his hand covering the radio. "House rules remember!"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to look out of the window as they pulled into the parking lot next to the bar. "Hey isn't that Alex?" he muttered, shifting in his seat to get a better look out of the window.

"Yeah, I think it is, and those two jerks from the beach," Dean said, pulling into a parking space.

* * *

"Hey, hey," Alex shouted out in alarm, trying to get between the Seth and Adam. "Put the bottle down!"

"Get out of the way," Adam spat, smashing his bottle against a lamp post.

"PUT IT DOWN!" Alex ordered her eyes wide in horror. "Please!"

Seth and Adam staring hard at each other, both placed their broken bottles on the floor grudgingly. Sighing in relief, Alex lowered her hands which had been pressed against their chests in a bid to keep them apart.

Suddenly Adam leapt forwards, knocking Alex aside and Seth backwards. "ADAM NO!" Alex screamed, regaining her balance and lunging at him in an attempt to pull him off.

"Get off me bitch," Adam snapped, grabbing a fist full of her top and flinging her off him.

Alex fell backwards, hitting her head against the tarmac, momentarily stunning her.

* * *

"Oh shit," said Dean, watching the scene before him. He turned off the Impala's engine and tried to open his door. "Door's jammed," he muttered trying to force it open.

"Mine too," said Sam, as he threw his body weight against the passenger door.

"Hey hey, be careful," said Dean instinctively.

"Man shut up and get us outta here," Sam snapped, trying to force the window open.

* * *

"Oww," Alex groaned, as she struggled to sit up and moved her hand to her head, wincing slightly as she felt blood.

Looking over, she saw Seth and Adam still fighting. Both were cut and bruised, Seth sporting a split lip and Adam a bloodied nose. Seth had just forced Adam off him and had rolled out of the way as Adam, having found one of the broken bottles, lunged at him thirsty for blood.

"STOP!" Alex cried forcing herself to her feet, as Seth picked up the other broken bottle to defend himself.

"SOMEONE HELP!" Alex shouted, looking towards the bar desperately. People were throwing themselves against the doors and windows struggling to get out. Confused and bewildered, she turned back to the pair screaming "NO!" as Adam plunged the broken bottle into Seth's stomach and Seth plunged his into Adam's chest.

She ran towards the brawling pair, who having both wounded each other with the broken bottles several times, backed away wincing. Adam collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor unmoving, Seth wavering faintly on his feet.

Alex grabbed Seth by the shoulders as he sank to his knees, his stomach bleeding profusely. '_Oh god what have you done,'_ she thought desperately, as he collapsed against her. She cradled him in her arms, looking into his tortured face with eyes brimming with tears. She watched in alarm as his bright blue eyes faded back to their normal hazel colour.

"Alex," Seth gasped.

* * *

"Come on!" Dean shouted in frustration, as he threw his weight against the door, the delicacy he usually showed his baby, abandoned. "Whoa," he yelled, as the door finally flew open and he fell in a heap on the floor.

Sam, hastily climbing over the seats, clambered out of the car and pulled Dean to his feet roughly, muttering, "You okay?" Not waiting for an answer he raced towards Alex, Seth and Adam at a sprint, Dean close behind. He glanced at the bar where people were fighting against the doors realising they must have locked too.

* * *

"What happened?" Seth gasped, as he looked into Alex's scared face, grabbing her hand in desperation.

"I … you … and Adam," Alex muttered incoherently, as her eyes drifted over to Adam's motionless body. Seth followed her gaze, shuddering at what he saw.

"Alex, are you okay?" came a breathless voice from behind her.

She turned to find Sam and Dean running towards her. "I … I" she tried looking down at Seth and her blood-stained clothes, trembling uncontrollably.

"It's okay," said Dean quietening her, as Sam crouched down beside Adam and checked for a pulse. Turning to Dean, a sombre expression etched across his face, he shook his head slightly.

"Oh god, I killed him didn't I?" Seth whispered, his eyes sparkling with tears, his breathing laboured and shallow. He looked up into Alex's terrified face as his own twisted in agony and his body revolted, blood seeping from his wounds.

"Hold on," she whispered, as she squeezed his hand, the other pressed firmly against his wounds, trying to stem the blood flow. His eyes rolled in his head and his body shuddered. He clenched her hand, squeezing it tightly as he stared up at her petrified, struggling to breathe. "Come on," Alex whispered, looking around desperately for an ambulance. Looking down, Seth trembled and grew silent.

Tears streamed down her frightened face as she held Seth's limp body in her lap. From the direction of the bar, she heard smashing glass as people finally forced their way out of the building. A thundering of feet preceded horrified screams as the mass of people saw Alex blood-drenched and dishevelled, Seth lying dead in her lap and Adam lying dead nearby.

"Urgh," Alex shuddered, her entire body trembling violently. She pushed Seth off her lap in terror shuffling backwards as fast as she could before bumping into Dean who drew her up in his arms.

"Shhh," he muttered, as she collapsed against him and broke down in to desperate sobs. Sam looked at Dean, concern etched across his expressive face as sirens wailed in the distance. "Come on," Dean muttered, pulling Alex to her feet. He guided her away from the scene and sat her on a nearby wall as police and ambulance vehicles screeched to a halt around them.

* * *

"What happened?" Sheriff Peters demanded coldly, looking at the horrific scene.

"I … they attacked each other," Alex stammered, as a paramedic attended to the gash on the back of her head.

"What?" he barked.

Alex, wincing as the paramedic doused the wound in antiseptic, trembled at the sound of his harsh voice, tears silently cascading down her drained cheeks.

"Sir, they just attacked each other. We saw it!" Dean butted in. Sam nodded in agreement.

"And who the hell are you?" the sheriff snapped, turning on them.

"I'm giving them surf lessons," Alex tried, watching Dean's face twitch in anger at the sheriff's cruel tone. "They're on holiday."

Checking himself slightly, the sheriff turned back to Alex. "You need to make a formal statement," he finished coldly.

"Alex. ALEX!" a voice shouted. Alex turned to see her father fighting through the crowd of distraught people. "Oh my god, are you okay?" he said hugging her.

She nodded slowly looking down at her blood-soaked clothes and blood-covered hands, her face draining of what little colour was left.

"Can I take her home now?" he asked, turning to the sheriff.

"She needs to make a formal statement down at the station."

"Can't she do that tomorrow? Look at her. She's in shock!"

Grudgingly the sheriff agreed on the condition she made her statement first thing the next day.

"I …bye," she called to Dean and Sam, as her father led her away firmly, her wrist clasped in his hand.

* * *

An hour later, Dean walked out of the motel shower rubbing his hair on a towel, having washed off the blood which had rubbed off Alex onto him. "You find anything in dad's journal?" he asked, looking over at Sam.

Sam flung the journal which had been sitting on his lap aside and pulled up the laptop. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "All there is is a brief entry about protecting Alex and her mother and a photograph. Whatever is causing this has to be a spirit of some description but have you ever seen a spirit possess two people at the same time and then forced them to kill each other in that way?"

Dean shook his head and sat on one of the beds, putting the towel aside. "Well what about a spirit …" he rubbed his head straining to think. "Oh I dunno. I mean could it be conjured for such a purpose?"

"What? You mean like a davae?"

"Yeah," Dean muttered, pulling on a pair of jeans.

"But it can't be, I mean they normally kill on their own, not through possession," said Sam.

"Well what else … witchcraft?"

"It could be. Remember my vision. The glowing light," Sam muttered.

"What? You think Alex is doing this?" Dean exclaimed. Sam shrugged. "Oh come off it. You saw her. Did she look like a killer to you? And you can't believe she killed her mother, especially like that!"

"I guess not," Sam sighed, remembering the fire and choking smoke from his vision.

"It's more likely that the spirit is somehow connected to her. I mean people do have a tendency to die around her."

"But if it's a spirit, whose?" said Sam. "We've been through the town records and the relevant books."

"I dunno, but if it's something suspicious or supernatural it wouldn't surprise me if all the evidence was hidden away. How many times have we seen it on other jobs? And you saw the way that librarian acted the other day. Don't you think it was a bit odd?"

"Nothing surprises me anymore," Sam sighed. "Well except finding out about you and Cassie."

Dean gave him a shove. "Yeah well," he muttered, pulling on a t-shirt. "Our upbringing wasn't exactly what most people would call normal."

"You're telling me. When I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a forty five."

"Well what was he supposed to do?"

"I was nine years old. He was supposed to say 'Don't be afraid of the dark.'"

"Don't be afraid of the dark! Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark; you know what's out there!"

Sam rolled his eyes emphatically and shook his head.

"Your running off to college was more of a shock than anything else I've ever come across, from phantom cars to scarecrow gods."

"Don't forget saving your ass," Sam smirked.

"Yeah well …" Dean trailed off. "Come on, we've gotta find out whose spirit we're dealing with here before someone else dies." Picking up their father's journal, he began flicking through it, looking for any clues or information that could help them. "I never did get that drink," he muttered, after several minutes of silence consumed the room.


	5. Chapter 5: Witch!

_**Disclaimer:** The Winchesters do not belong to me, more's the pity, I just like having my wicked way with them. _

**A/N:** There is some infrequent swearing in this chapter - just to let you all know. This is Chapter 5, I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to review. Constructive criticism is welcome and much appreciated. Thanks to all those who have read previous chapters and especially to those who've reviewed.

Stops rambling Enjoy!

**Chapter 5: - Witch!**

Having laid awake half the night in shock, unable to get the frightening images of Seth and Adam out of her head, Alex finally struggled out of bed, changing into a pair of pale blue linen trousers and a white vest top. She dragged her feet as she made her way across the landing, hesitating as she passed her mother's boarded up bedroom, leaning her head against the wall sadly.

Hearing a muffled but heated conversation coming from the kitchen, she made her way silently down the stairs. Crossing the hall and leaning against the kitchen door which stood ajar, she listened to the voices coming from within.

"Why are you protecting her Jack?" a voice she recognised as Sheriff Peters, muttered sharply.

"Keep your voice down, she'll hear you," her father's voice muttered anxiously.

"Well?" Sheriff Peters snapped impatiently.

"She's my daughter," her father replied cagily.

"Ha!" came the sarcastic response.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"You know what she is. She's a witch just like her great great great great great great grandmother Elizabeth!"

"Shut up. That's not true!"

"You know just as well as the rest of this town does what she is. The curse! You've known it since the day you took them in. We warned you!"

"Stop it."

"We have to finish this now. She's killed three people."

Alex leant back against the wall in shock, refusing to believe her ears. She swallowed hard against the panic that was slowly filling her stomach and tried to shrug off the goose pimples that were creeping up her spine.

"No. I don't believe you!" her father said firmly.

"You saw it for yourself!"

"It's not her fault. If the curse comes true, it's this town's fault. We were the one's who drove that poor woman crazy and you'll not do the same to my daughter!"

"She's not YOUR daughter."

Alex stood paralysed, the colour draining from her cheeks, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Shut up! I raised her."

"YOU'RE NOT HER FATHER!"

Unable to listen to anymore, Alex forced herself away from the wall and burst into the kitchen. "Is that true." "IS THAT FUCKING TRUE!" she shouted, looking from her father to the Sheriff and back again.

"Alex-" Jack jumped in alarm. He turned and walked towards her, his arms outstretched.

"Stay away from me you liar," she shouted, backing away. She turned and ran out of the kitchen and out of the front door, kicking on a pair of sandals as she went.

Running hard down the drive, refusing to look back as her father shouted at her to stop, she ran out in front of Sam and Dean's car.

"Whoa, watch out," Dean called, as he slammed on the brakes. Alex threw her arms out in front of her pressing her palms hard against the Impala's bonnet and jumping backwards as the car screeched to a halt.

Sam, who had been thrown forwards in his seat, looked through the windshield at Alex's agitated and distressed face, turning to see her father running out of the house after her.

"Alex, wait, please!" he called.

"Stay the hell away from me," she cried, skirting round the car. "Don't you dare touch me!" He stopped mid-step not knowing what to do. Making up his mind, he turned on his heel and stormed back up to the house, his face flushed red in anger.

Getting out of the car, Sam led her aside so that Dean could pull up and park. "Come on," he said. "Let's go and get a coffee."

* * *

Placing a coffee in front of her, Dean and Sam took a seat opposite. The café was again all but deserted. Bob had disappeared out back and they found themselves alone sitting in the most discreet corner, hidden from the outside by the dividing walls of the booth.

"What exactly happened last night?" Sam pried gently.

Alex stared down intently at her coffee, her hands twisting anxiously on the table in front of her. "We were just talking … and then … I can't explain it," she said softly. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I am going crazy!"

Sam moved his hand across the table, placing it on hers. "Try us."

She glanced up into his eyes hopefully. They twinkled with a sadness she hadn't noticed before.

"Well we were talking and they just doubled up in pain. Both of them. I asked whether they were okay … and then … well they started acting really oddly. Antagonising each other … but they're best friends … they don't … they never …" she trailed off. "And their eyes," she gasped, suddenly remembering.

"What about them?" Dean asked gently, snatching a sideways glance at Sam who was looking at him, his brow furrowed.

"They … I've never seen anything like it. Seth's eyes … well when he was lying in my lap," tears filled her eyes as she remembered the events so vividly. "His eyes … they changed colour."

'_Shapeshifter,'_ Dean thought instinctively, looking at Sam who knew what he was thinking.

'_Maybe,'_ Sam thought, shrugging slightly, Dean knowing he wasn't sure.

"They changed from this shocking unnatural blue back to hazel. Both had these strange eyes. It was so …" she said, struggling to find the right words. "Do you think I'm crazy?" She looked down at her lap, pulling her hands out from under Sam's and off the table. She pushed herself back into the corner of the booth, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms round them frightened.

"No, of course we don't," Dean smiled reassuringly.

"Well you're the only ones," she sighed sadly. "When I'm forced to make a formal statement, they're going to put me in a straight jacket."

"Was that what you were arguing about with your father just now?" Sam said.

"No. I overheard something I don't think I was meant to hear," Alex responded, her face creased in concentration trying to remember what had been said.

"What is it?" Dean asked, knowing that look so well, having seen it on Sam's face so often in recent months.

"Just something they said. Something about curses, and knowing a secret about me and my mother," she sighed, shaking her head with a sad frown.

Dean and Sam looked at each other, both picking up on what she hadn't. _'A curse,'_ Dean thought. _'Now we're getting somewhere!'_

"I need to get out of here," Alex said suddenly, jumping to her feet. Bob, who had returned, was looking at her in concern, something she couldn't bear. Dean, following her glance, nodded and stood up to leave.

* * *

Pushing open the glass door, the summer sunshine shone brightly into their eyes. They walked out onto the gravel path, the sea breeze rustling through their hair.

"What did you do to him, WITCH?" a voice spat from behind them. Alex turned sharply to find a short girl with dark brown hair walking towards them. She recognised her as Adam's girlfriend, Christina. Standing beside her were her mother and the deputy sheriff's wife.

"I didn't … do anything," Alex stammered, taken aback. She looked her in the eye, seeing only blind hatred.

Across the street, her 'father' and the town sheriff walked out of the surf shack, coming to a halt as they saw the scene before them.

"YOU WITCH! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!"

Alex stared at her, feeling as though she'd been stabbed in the chest. "Is that what you all think of me?" she whispered under her breath. "IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING THINK!" She looked around desperately as the small crowd which had gathered and stared at her in a hostile silence. A single tear carved its way down her flushed cheek.

"Yes," said the deputy's wife, finally breaking the suffocating silence.

"How about you dad?" she called across the street. "Oh I forgot you're not even my real father are you!" she screamed, more tears bleeding from her eyes. Turning away, she fled, not stopping until she reached the safety of the deserted beach.

Dean and Sam stared at the small crowd in annoyance before running after her.

* * *

"What the hell is it with these small towns and their big secrets," Sam muttered, as they reached the beach, pausing to look round for Alex.

"Tell me about it," said Dean, rolling his eyes. "Do you think it is witchcraft?"

"I guess it could be. But it doesn't explain Alex's reaction in my vision. I mean she looked genuinely terrified," Sam replied thoughtfully.

"Well what about if it's a spirit related to her in some way? It would explain the town's reaction and the glowing light in your vision. Could they be intertwined in some way?"

"Either way, something supernatural is going on here," Sam muttered, as he followed Dean, who was heading in the direction of the cliffs where Alex was sitting alone. "I'll wait here," he said, stopping near the sea as Dean climbed up the rocks to where she was sitting, thinking about his vision, his frown deepening.

"Hey," said Dean, as he quietly took a seat beside Alex. She continued to stare out to sea, tears trickling freely down her face but moved over to give him room.

"Thanks. You okay?"

She shrugged, not taking her eyes off the horizon. "Why is this happening?" she said, in a barely audible whisper.

"I dunno," Dean sighed. "But I swear to you, we'll find out."

Alex looked up at him, a sad smile briefly flickering across her face. Dean put his arm across her shoulder as she leant against him. They sat in silence, both gazing out over the sea.

"I wish my mom was her," she whispered, more to herself than anyone.

'_Me too,'_ Dean thought sadly. This case was bringing back a lot of painful memories. Memories he wished he never had. He glanced instinctively back at his younger brother, who stood watching them, a pained expression etched across his young face. Dean wished he could have protected him from all this, their mother's death, Jess, and now these visions.

He was brought back to reality with a thud as Alex was thrown backwards across the beach by an invisible force.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, struggling to his feet.

Sam, seeing what happened, ran across the sand to where Alex had fallen, lying in a crumpled heap. He looked around automatically ready for another attack. "Are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet as she gasped in shock. Turning to look at Dean, he watched in horror as the cliffs above his brother began to crumble, huge boulders raining down towards him.

"NOOOO!" Alex yelled, her hands instinctively reaching out into thin air and sweeping the air aside. As her arms moved, Dean was hurled out of the way of the falling rocks.

Sam looked at her mesmerised, as she looked down at her hands in fright. "Oh my god … Did I do that?" She turned to look at him as he was knocked off his feet by what looked like thin air and was dragged backwards into the sea.

"STOP THIS!" Alex cried, running to the water's edge and looking for Sam.

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled, pushing himself to his feet from where he had fallen and ran down the beach to where Alex stood.

"No Dean, stay out of the water," Alex shouted, throwing out her arm to stop him.

"What?" he snapped anxiously, desperately wanting to save his brother, but feeling something holding him back. He struggled against it frantically but to no avail.

"Trust me!" Alex pleaded, as she waded into the surf. _'Sam where are you?'_ she thought desperately. She was overwhelmed by a flood of thoughts, thoughts she realised weren't her own. Blinking hard, her head clasped in her hands, she disappeared into the waves.

"SHIT!" Dean cried, fighting against the force that was still restraining him.

Diving under the waves, Alex followed her instincts. Swimming hard against the current, she threw her arms out searchingly, feeling with her hands across the sea floor. Finally her fingers grazed against Sam's face. Reaching out with her other hand, she pulled him off the bottom, and wrapped her arm around his chest, dragging him to the surface.

Letting out a choking breath as she broke the surface, she propped Sam against her chest in the recovery position and swam hard towards the shore, desperately trying to keep his head out of the water. Dean stood waiting, ready to pull him onto the beach.

"Oh god Sammy," Dean muttered in a strangled cry, as he heaved his brother's limp body out of the water, Alex helping as best she could, her body and mind completely exhausted. "Don't do this to me," Dean whispered, as he laid Sam on the sand and placed his ear next to his brother's mouth. "Come on breathe," he pleaded, tilting Sam's head back and blowing air into his lungs. "Don't you dare give up on me!" The desperation in his voice was immense, his mind racing as he thought how he had again failed to protect his brother, who was lying there cold and deathly pale. Tears forced their way to the surface as Sam refused to breathe on his own.

Alex placed a hand on Dean's shoulder as his whole body trembled. "You can't die like this," he whispered, tears trickling down his cheeks as he looked down at Sam's pale face.


	6. Chapter 6: Deadly Secrets

Thank you guys for such sweet reviews. Thanks for bearing with me after I left you with such an evil cliffhanger. Hope you like Chapter 6. Let me know what you think. Oh and normal disclaimers apply. :)

**Chapter 6: - Deadly Secrets.**

'_He looks like he's asleep,'_ Dean thought, remembering the countless times he'd watched Sam sleep over the years, especially when they were younger and their father had gone off on hunts, leaving them completely alone. He had always been left in charge. 'Look after your brother Dean,' his father had told him so many times. Dean had been afraid to leave his brother's side for fear of failing him, especially after that one night when the Shtriga came for Sam. "Well I'm not about to give up now!" he muttered stubbornly, breathing again for his brother. "Sammy don't you dare do this now, breathe."

Dean blew air into Sam's lungs several more times, desperately looking for a response. Seeing none, he thumped his fist on his brother's chest in desperate frustration. The force of the blow forced the water out of Sam's lungs, who coughed it up, gasping and choking as he finally responded to the air.

"SAMMY!" Dean exclaimed, pulling his brother into a relieved and affectionate hug. Sam leant against him feeling dizzy and slightly nauseous. "I thought I'd lost you," Dean whispered. Sam embraced his brother, smiling weakly. "Are you okay?" he continued, pulling back and cupping Sam's face in his hands, looking intently into his eyes.

Sam nodded slightly, his mind giddy with the sudden influx of oxygen. "Yeah, I think so."

Dean pulled him into a relieved brotherly hug, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're not crying are you?" Sam smiled, trying to break the awkward tension. "Cos I know how you hate chick flick moments."

"Don't be a smart ass," Dean muttered, cuffing Sam on the shoulder. "I knew you'd be fine!"

Both knew it was a lie and Dean had been desperately scared of losing his brother, but neither spoke about it, both acknowledging it as an unspoken truth.

"Please don't tell me you gave me mouth to mouth resuscitation," Sam continued playfully, feigning revulsion.

Dean flicked his brother on the nose good-naturedly. "Well what was I supposed to do? You were dying on my ass," he grinned.

"Yeah, but man you could have let the girl do it," he laughed, looking at Alex. "I mean you sure know how to make a guy feel special!"

"Aww shut your mouth, you're breathing ain't ya. If I knew you'd react like this I'd have left ya to rot. And by the way it wasn't all that for me either. I mean going mouth to mouth with my little brother wasn't exactly high on my list of priorities. When did you last brush your teeth?"

Sam grinned up at his brother with a devilish glint in his eye.

"I see that near death experience did nothing for your charming personality," Dean laughed. "Come on, let's get off this damn beach before anything else happens." He pulled his brother up to his feet. Sam wobbled unsteadily, his brother and Alex both supporting him as they walked across the sand towards the parking lot where the Impala was stood waiting.

"Here," said Dean, chucking a couple of towels at Sam and Alex. "I don't want you getting the seats wet."

Sam laughed as he placed one on the passenger seat to avoid damaging the upholstery, Alex copying him as she climbed into the back seat.

"What?" said Dean innocently.

"Nothing," Sam grinned. "Just drive."

* * *

Unlocking the motel room door, Alex stepped aside to let Dean, who was supporting Sam, in. Closing the door behind them, she stood awkwardly in the corner as Dean helped Sam to one of the beds.

"I'm okay Dean, stop fusing. You're turning into a woman."

Dean pursed his lips, making Sam laugh. "You're back to your charming self," he muttered with a smirk, perching on the dresser. Turning to Alex he beckoned her forwards. "Make yourself comfy," he said, handing her a clean towel to dry herself off with.

Taking it, she perched on the edge of a chair which sat in the corner of the room. Looking round anxiously, she bit down on her bottom lip, the towel lying abandoned in her lap. An awkward silence filled the room as Dean glanced at Sam who shrugged, not knowing where to start. Alex saved them the trouble.

"What the hell just happened?" she whispered under her breath, looking from Dean and Sam to her hands in fear, not wanting to believe.

"I think you just saved our lives," Sam smiled gently, leaning forwards, the colour rapidly returning to his pale cheeks.

"But-" Alex gestured, not able to fully comprehend what had happened.

"How?" Dean finished for her. "That's what we have to find out."

"What exactly did you hear earlier?" Sam asked softly, his face full of compassion.

"Well-" she started sceptically, thinking over the ludicrous conversation she'd heard that lunchtime. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I'm sure I heard them correctly. They-I mean … Sheriff Peters … he called me … a witch … said I was just like my great great great great great great grandmother. They were arguing. My fath- Jack - and Peters … about some sort of curse. Jack … he said it was the town's fault if the curse came true, not mine … that it was they who had driven some woman crazy. Peters wouldn't listen … said they needed to finish it … that I'd killed three people-" She spoke rapidly, hardly daring to breathe for fear of not being able to finish. "They want to kill me don't they?" she said timidly, looking first at Dean then at Sam. The pair glanced at one another knowing the truth, having seen similar things happen in the past. "What the hell is happening?" she cried out in frustration, it bursting from her before she could check herself.

There was a short tense pause.

"We think a vengeful spirit is haunting the town," Sam sighed finally, prepared for the inevitable.

"You what?" Alex almost laughed; thinking there had to be a more logical explanation, even after what she had seen.

"Look, it's not just a coincidence that we're here," said Dean, pacing the floor. "Sam had this dream about your mother's death and we came to … well investigate."

Alex, overloaded with the bewildering information didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Look," said Sam, changing tact. "Our mother died when we were young in a similar way to yours …her death was unexplainable … something no one would believe … my girlfriend, Jess, died in the same way not long ago. I know it sounds crazy … I'm the first to admit it. I-" he glanced at Dean. "I walked away … I went to university to try to find a normal life … but my past came back to haunt me."

Dean looked at his brother, whose eyes twinkled with sadness. He'd never heard Sam talk so openly about his reasons for leaving to go to university with a stranger before.

"I'm not sure I'm following you," said Alex sadly.

"Ever since our mother died … we … and our father, have been hunters-" Sam faltered, glancing at Dean sadly.

"Hunters of the supernatural," Dean finished for him.

Alex stared at them, struggling to believe her ears. "This has to be the cruellest bad dream," she muttered, pinching herself. "I can't believe this."

"You saw … felt it for yourself," said Dean, looking at her nervously, having felt something even he couldn't explain.

Alex stood up and walked over to the window which overlooked the sea in silence, lost in thought. She couldn't explain what happened. But spirits! Curses! Witches! It was almost too hard to believe. Sinking down on the bed next to the window, her back to the room, Sam and Dean, she looked down at the floor shaking her head slowly.

Watching her in silence, Dean moved to pick up some clothes. "Here," he said, walking towards her, trying to break the uncomfortable silence which had settled over them. He held out the items. "It's not much, just one of Sam's tops and a pair of my jeans, but we've got nothing smaller."

"Thanks," she smiled, taking them from him gratefully, and headed for the bathroom to change out of her wet outfit. Snapping the door shut behind her, she pulled on the boys' clothes which were several sizes too large for her and returned to the bedroom. Twisting the t-shirt, which hung to her knees, she tied it into a knot so that it didn't reach past her waist and held up the jeans with her hands. "Umm, do you have a spare belt," she said, looking down at the jeans that gaped at her waist.

"Here," said Sam, throwing her one from the floor.

"Thanks." She pushed the belt through the belt loops and tightened it, making the jeans fit as nicely as possible on her hips. She then sat on the nearby bed crossing her legs. "What now?" she asked, her head propped up on her hand.

"Sammy here's gonna hack into the town's database, see if we can dig up some information on this curse."

Alex raised her eyebrow out of habit. "I'm sorry," she said, checking herself. "I guess I just find this all difficult to believe – Maybe I'm a cynic."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Sam laughed weakly He looked at Dean, who flushed at the thought of Cassie, his first love's reaction when he had first told her what he did for a living.

"Yeah, well I guess you have to see it to believe it!" he muttered, remembering her change of heart after her father's mysterious death. "Come on college boy," he continued. "Do your worst." He handed Sam the laptop, who snatched it from him and began breaking down the access codes into the town's restricted files system.

"Right, I'm in," he muttered after ten minutes. "Damn, there's a highly restricted data base here. It must hold a bunch of files that no one's ever meant to see. Oh and the good news is that we only have three chances to get it right," he said, shifting off the bed and placing the laptop on the desk before drawing up a chair, his father's journal on his lap.

"Great, this is gonna be such fun," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"Well dad sent us here, so he obviously thinks we're capable of this. Have another look in his journal," Sam muttered, chucking it to him. He started opening internet windows and browsed through the town's archive of newspapers for a password.

"Try Elizabeth," said Alex thoughtfully, concentrating hard on what Peters had said.

Dean looked round at her, curiosity evident on his open and expressive face. He turned to Sam and shrugged. Sam typed in the name Elizabeth in to the red box under _Password,_ hesitating before hitting enter.

A green box replaced the red one, reading _Access Granted_. Sam looked at Alex questioningly. "How did you-"

Alex shook her head. "I'm not sure … I just knew … I could feel it."

Dean looked at her intently, his brow raised in alarm but a glint twinkling in his eye. "And you said you were cynical about this stuff."

Alex shrugged, a weird sensation settling over her body. Her mind raced with all the events of the day but at the same time it was exhausted, her concentration on the password draining her last reserves of energy. As she watched Sam typing away at the computer, Dean leaning over his shoulder, her eyes blurred and the boys' low soft voices became a faint hum. Feeling giddy, she laid her head on her arm, feeling the soft mattress give beneath her as the room faded away.

"Bingo," Sam said triumphantly, pointing at the screen with one hand and scrolling down with the other, scanning the files' contents. "I think we have a winner. Elizabeth Green, a local woman was hanged, it says here for making a pact with the devil and for seduction."

Dean shook his head in annoyance. "Great, so they believed she was a witch, which explains their recent behaviour."

"That's not all," Sam continued. "It says here that Elizabeth Green was hanged in 1806, two hundred years ago last week. The same day Alex turned eighteen and the very same day her mother died, the day I had the vision.

"Oh this just keeps getting better and better," Dean muttered sarcastically. "And to top it all off we've got one pissed off spirit coming back from the dead to seek revenge.

They glanced at Alex who was lying, eyes closed on the bed. "Should we wake her?" Sam muttered. "Tell her what we've found?"

"Nah, not until we know exactly what we're dealing with here. Plus I should think she's shattered after dragging your fat ass out of the sea."

Sam grinned. "She saved your ass too Dean."

"Yeah well, come on, what else does it say?"

"Well from the looks of this, I'm not totally convinced it's a fully fledged spirit," Sam muttered. "It doesn't fit the normal pattern."

"What does in our line of business," Dean butted in. Sam just glared at him and continued.

"Alex mentioned something about a curse. What if it's the curse that is coming true, not a spirit?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno, but I sure as hell ain't gonna wait to find out. Let's get this over with."

"Hang on, there's another file here," said Sam, clicking on it and reading. "Bloody hell, it's a list of people at the trial – it's, it's like a transcript. Like the Salem witch trials," he muttered, looking at the list of names. "Have you got that copy of the town's ancestral tree we took from the library?"

Dean reached for his leather jacket and pulled a folded piece of paper out of it. "What you looking for?"

"I have a hunch."

"A hunch?" Dean said disbelievingly, rolling his eyes. "It's like the mad and the crazy in here today," he muttered under his breath, glancing at Sam and then Alex, shaking his head in amusement.

"I don't know how else to say this, but I think we have our death list," said Sam, looking round at Dean.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, here's the list of people that condemned Elizabeth Green," he said, handing the laptop to Dean. "Now look at the tree." He ran his finger from the condemners down to their descendants, his finger finally hitting on Seth and Adam's names. "Our spirit or whatever she is, is coming back to seek revenge on those who condemned her – or their modern day descendants."

Dean looked at the names his brother was circling. "Great, so we have four descendants directly related to the condemners and condemned left, this just gets better and better!"

"Does it say where they buried her body?" Sam asked.

Dean scrolled down the web page. "Yeah … in an unmarked grave on that cliff top," he said, pointing out of the window. "Next to an old oak tree."

"I'll get the shovels," Sam offered, jumping up and heading over to the door. Dean chucked him the keys. "I think you better wake up Alex, tell her what we've found," he said disappearing out of the door.

Dean moved over to the other bed, touching her gently on the shoulder. "Alex."

"You coming?" Sam shouted seconds later, as he burst through the door. "You not woken her yet?"

"Alex," said Dean, shaking her. Turning to Sam, he muttered, "She's not responding."

"She's breathing?" Sam began in alarm.

"Of course she is stupid; she's just not waking up!"

Sam shrugged, having seen Dean almost comatose with sheer exhaustion after gigs and wasn't too worried. "Leave her a note. We gotta get this done before anyone else from that list dies."

* * *

"Grab the body," Dean muttered, throwing aside his shovel and wiping his sweaty brow with his arm half an hour later.

Grumbling slightly as he climbed down into the unearthed grave, Sam gently scooped up the bones. Laying them down on the grassy cliff, Dean stepped forward, throwing salt over the remains before dousing them in petrol. Sam struck a match, pausing for only a second before dropping it, the remains engulfed in flames.

"You reckon it's over," he muttered, turning to Dean.

* * *

Back at the motel, Alex lay in a slumber on the bed, Dean having scribbled a note and placing it in her hand. She jumped in her sleep and awoke suddenly, as if she had received an electric shock.

Sitting up disorientated, she looked around her, taking in the darkening room. Shifting gently, her muscles stiff and aching, she heard a rustle near her hand. Looking down, she picked up the piece of paper and read Dean's message.

Standing up, she drifted over to the window, glancing out over the dimly lit sea. Behind her the door opened.

"You're awake," Dean said, as he flicked on the light switch, Alex blinking against the harsh glare.

"So what did you find?" she said.

Sam looked at Dean. "A lot," he muttered.

* * *

An hour later, a spellbound Alex left the motel room, numb by what Sam and Dean had shown her. They followed her out of the door and walked her home.

"Is, was she … Elizabeth ... a witch then?" she said, dreading the answer.

"We're not entirely sure," said Sam honestly. "A restless spirit doesn't necessarily mean the person possessed supernatural powers or gifts in life."

"Do you think she's ... her spirits still … alive?"

Sam glanced sideways at Dean, who muttered, "No, I don't think so. We burned her remains, which usually works." Alex shuddered at the thought.

They walked down the hill in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts until they reached Alex's home.

"Thanks," Alex said, meaning more than just the walk home as she turned to the brothers.

"No problem," Dean smiled. "Oh and thank you," he said, looking from her to Sam.

Alex understood the glance and smiled. "It was the least I could do." She turned to the house, opening the door, giving them one last lingering look before disappearing inside. Sam and Dean were left looking after her, both looking up instinctively at the blackened burnt out bedroom window.

* * *

Alex slipped off her sandals and walked towards the kitchen, Dean's jeans catching on the smooth wooden floor underneath her bare feet. Taking out a couple of biscuits and a glass of orange juice from the cupboard, she headed for the stairs.

The house was quiet and still. Alex wondered half-heartedly where the man she had believed to be her father was. Shaking off the feeling easily, she headed up the staircase and walked across the landing towards her room, nibbling on a biscuit. She flopped down on her bed, her ears ringing with the oppressive silence that filled the house.

Lying down, snuggling her head against the soft feather pillows, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She could still smell the faint odour of the fire a week before. A single tear shimmered in the corner of her eye before bleeding its way down her pale cheek.

Wiping it away quickly, she sat up, gulping down the orange juice and finishing off the other biscuit. She struggled to her feet and made her way to the bathroom, wanting to wash all the sea salt off her skin and out of her tangled windswept hair.

She climbed out of the overlarge clothes, folding them neatly on the box seat before climbing into the shower. She felt her spirits lift slightly as the Coconut fragranced shampoo and body wash removed the sand, salt and sweat.

Rinsing off, she turned down the water and climbed out, wrapping a towel round her as she began to dry her hair in the steamed up bathroom mirror.

As she turned off the hairdryer and opened the bathroom door, letting out a waft of hot steam, she heard her 'father' moving round downstairs. Hurrying into her bedroom, she proceeded to get dressed, pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans and a bright green strappy top.

She threw Sam and Dean's clothes onto her wicker chair and did up her black string necklace which hardly ever left her neck. The necklace had a silver A on it with a delicate deep green gem encrusted into it. Her mother had given it her as a young child and she had told her to wear it close to her heart. She instinctively touched the familiar detail as she remembered the day she had received it. Silently she reached out for the ring her mother had worn on a bracelet, a gift from someone her mother said had saved her life. She did up the clasp around her wrist, watching as it tinkled against her hand

From downstairs there was a knock at the door. Alex heard her 'father' cross the hall and open it, before raised voices could be heard. She crept quietly over to the bedroom door, opening it just a crack to hear the voices.

"Where's Alex?" one spoke.

"What's going on?" her 'father', Jack responded hesitantly.

"My deputy and his wife are dead, that's what," she heard Peters snap, as he barged his way into the house. "Now where is she? The witch! The one that's causing all this! It has to end now. No more protecting her from her fate."

"I think she went for a walk along the beach," Jack said evasively. "Gone to clear her head."

"Well you won't mind us checking your house then?" Peters growled threateningly, taking a step up the stairs.

Alex jumped back away from the door and looked round for a means of escape. She crept silently across the room towards the window, pushing it up as quietly as she could as the pounding footsteps on the stairs grew louder. She climbed out of the window as fast as she could, pulling it too behind her as she climbed down the wooden trellis that was attached to the side of the house.

Jumping the last two or three feet, she crouched against the wall looking down the side of the house towards the street seeing that half the town stood waiting.

"Check out back," someone yelled.

Crawling out into the hedges at the back of the yard, she made her way as fast as she could out into the open fields beyond. Crawling through the long grass, she made her way as fast as she could all the way up the hillside, keeping out of sight of the street, and back on herself until she reached the motel.

Crawling through the undergrowth trying to stay out of sight of the windows, she came to a stop. Crouching down behind the building, she counted the windows trying to remember how far over the room she'd been in just hours before was. Crawling on all fours, she headed for the seventh window across, praying it was the right one. Pushing it open, she climbed inside.


	7. Chapter 7: Oops

_Thank you guys for all of your lovely reviews I hope you like chapter 7. I know it's a shorty but I really I enjoyed writing this chapter. Once you start reading you'll understand why  lol. I'll say no more, I'll leave it to your imaginations._

**Chapter 7: - Oops.**

Dean flopped down on the bed as Sam closed the door behind them, carrying a bag of fast food. Throwing the keys aside onto the dresser, he shrugged off his jacket and placed the bag on the chair.

"Here," he said, chucking a cellophane wrapped burger at Dean's head.

"Oi," Dean smiled, grabbing the burger and sitting up. "Watch it." He ravenously tore off the packaging, devouring the burger in three bites.

"Urgh man, you're such a pig," Sam groaned.

Dean smirked; finishing his mouthful he grabbed the bag and took out a packet of fries. "Survival of the fittest Sammy, eat or weep."

"Hey, give that back," Sam responded, trying to grab the bag Dean had stolen. "My food's in there too."

"Well hurry up and eat or I'll eat it for you." Dean started to eat his fries greedily, before reaching for one of the drinks Sam had placed on the dresser and took a gulp. "Ahh," he groaned contently with a grin. "Needed that." He stood up and ruffled through his pack, taking out a towel and shower gel.

Heading for the bathroom, Sam yelled, "You better not use all the hot water!" Dean gave him a devilish grin before closing the door.

Alex pushed the curtains aside as she stuck her leg through the window, bending her head as she climbed in. She extended her leg, reaching for the floor, but instead came into contact with the sink. "Oh great," she muttered under her breath. Deciding she could only have gone one too far over she continued to climb in. As she sat on the ledge, drawing her other leg in, the shower was turned on.

Jumping at the sudden sound of rushing water and movement from behind the shower curtain, her feet slipped on the wet bathroom sink. "SHIT!" she cried, as her feet flew out from under her and she fell sideways, her arms flailing out and grabbing the shower curtain, ripping it down on top of her.

Lying in shock on the hard tiled floor, she fought against the sopping wet sheet in panic until she finally struggled free. Looking up, she found a naked Dean staring down at her in horror, his hands held in front of him in an attempt at modesty.

"Oh crap," she muttered in dismay, her face etched with embarrassment. Covering her eyes with her hands, her cheeks blushing crimson, she felt around on the floor and on the wall hangers for a towel. "Here," she cringed, holding one out for him, flustered.

"Ehh thanks," he said, his voice high pitched, the air crackling with an awkward and mortified silence.

From behind her, the bathroom door was kicked open. Sam, armed with a shot gun, burst into the room saying, "Are you okay? I heard a-" before standing stock still, his jaw open as he looked at the scene.

Looking from Alex's mortified face to Dean's flushed cheeks, he lowered the gun, his body shaking with silent laughter.

"Don't even think about it," Dean muttered, hurriedly tying the towel Alex had given him around his waist.

"What?" said Sam, choked up with laughter, his eyes twinkling with hysteria. He grabbed his stomach, doubling over as he lost control making Dean's flush even deeper. Fighting for breath, he gasped, "Your faces … I wish … I had … a camera."

Dean threw a bottle of shower gel at him, his face going as red as Alex's. Alex struggled to her feet, scuttling past Sam and out of the bathroom, leaving him staring at Dean, biting down on his bottom lip in amusement.

Alex stumbled across the room and took a seat on the chair which sat in the far corner, drawing her knees to her chest. She stared at the beige wallpaper intently as Sam left the bathroom and walked towards her, taking a seat on the bed opposite.

"So …" he said, after a tense and awkward pause. "Was there a reason for you dropping in so unexpectedly and embarrassing my brother?" He watched as Alex flushed all the way to her roots. He tried to hide the smile that itched to light up his face, a twinkle burning in his eye, as Dean walked into the room wearing a pair of jeans and rubbing a towel through his hair.

"Well actually there was," she smiled sheepishly. "I need your help."

Sam's smile fell from his face, a serious expression replacing his playful mood. "What's happened?"

"Sheriff Peters … and pretty much the whole town turned up at my house. The deputy sheriff and his wife … the woman that accused me of witchcraft outside Bob's … they're dead. They think it's me … that I did it. They're after me."

"Shit," Dean muttered under his breath, as he yanked on a t-shirt and began throwing his stuff into his pack, Sam following suit "We gotta get outta here." Bending down, he scooped up the remaining dirty clothes he'd kicked under his bed, throwing them into the bag and picking up the laptop. "Here," he shouted, throwing the bag to Sam and passing him the laptop as his brother walked towards the door, grabbing the keys as he went.

Dean made for the bathroom to check for any mislaid belongings whilst Alex stared in wonder at the speed in which the pair packed up their lives.

Sam returned, throwing the keys aside as he checked the draws and floor. "Got everything?" Dean said, as he came out of the bathroom and walked towards the door.

"Yeah, think so."

"Dad's journal?" Dean continued, turning back as he opened the door.

"Got it," said Sam, picking up the journal and walking towards the open door. "Ahh hell," he muttered looking out of the doorway.

Dean followed his gaze. Walking towards them were half the population of the town. "I don't think so," he said slamming the door shut and walking towards the window at the other side of the room, Alex following. "Oh great, the other half," he muttered sarcastically, as he looked out to find the other half of the town's population walking towards the back of the motel, surrounding them.

"This can't be happening," Alex whispered.

Dean looked at her then Sam, a serious expression furrowing his brow. He turned back to close the curtains, his eyes widening in alarm as he shouted, "Aww crap, hit the deck!" Sam threw himself on the ground between the two beds as Dean pushed Alex to the floor, hurling himself down beside her as a hail of bullets rained down on them.

"Jesus Christ," Alex screamed, covering her head as the wood of the motel splintered. Dean reached over, trying to shield her as the window above them exploded, shattered glass thundering down on them, as the rest of the room was blown to smithereens.

"They better not touch my car," Dean shouted angrily over the roar of gunfire, thinking of the bullet holes that would destroy his baby. As suddenly as the rapid gun fire had started, it stopped, a suffocating silence replacing the deafening roar. Dean could hear the faint clicking and smooth sliding of the guns being reloaded. Knowing they only had seconds before the next wave of gunfire hit, he looked up from where he lay on the ground and shouted in a hushed voice, "You okay little brother?"

"Yeah," Sam groaned, shaking the shattered glass and other debris off him.

Dean looked up at the ceiling, hunting for a way out. "SAM."

Sam seeing what his brother saw, said, "I'm on it." As fast as he could, he dragged a chair into the centre of the room directly beneath the sun roof. He jumped up on to the seat and pushed it open.

"Move it Sammy!"

Sam pulled himself up through the window. "Come on, let's go," he whispered, extending his arms down to Alex. "You're up next."

Alex held up her arms grabbing Sam's as he pulled her through.

"The book," Dean exclaimed, as he looked round for his father's journal, picking it up off the floor.

"Move it Dean," Sam muttered. Dean climbed up onto the chair, stashing the journal into his jacket as he let his brother drag him through the sun roof just as the door beneath them was smashed open.

"Here," Dean whispered, throwing the journal to Sam. Listening intently to the voices below, he mouthed, "Go!"

Sam crawled across the roof leading the way.

"You're next," Dean whispered, looking at Alex. They began to follow as slowly and as quietly as possible, keeping low and out of sight.

As they followed, the roof creaked ominously beneath Dean, who cursed silently, stopping momentarily. From beneath them, all movement stopped and an eerie silence filled the air.

Dean breathed deeply, his senses heightened by the unnatural silence. "MOVE!" he ordered, as a hail of bullets shot through the roof, the roof creaking and groaning, buckling under his weight.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, scrambling back towards his brother.

"OH SHIT," Dean yelled, as the roof gave way beneath him and he fell through it and into the devastated room below. Crashing to the floor in a mountain of rubble and coughing heavily on the dust, he was dragged to his feet roughly. "Get off me," he shouted, as he struggled against his captors, watching others point their guns at the ceiling again and open fire.

Alex let out a bloodcurdling scream as she rolled across the roof trying to dodge the hail of bullets. Curling up in a ball against the edge of the crumbling rooftop, it began to groan and give way beneath her. Her weight forced the roof to collapse and she fell through it to the floor in a crumpled heap, a cloud of dirt fogging up the room.

Sheriff Peters stalked towards her as she came to her senses and backed away from him fruitlessly into a corner. "Pin her down," he snapped. Two large burly men walked forwards, one grabbing her arms, the other her legs.

"Get … off … of me," she screamed, wriggling and struggling against the two men as the sheriff walked towards her.

"Leave her alone," Dean shouted angrily.

Bending down, Peters pulled out a handkerchief, dousing it in a liquid Dean couldn't quite make out. Alex looked at him wide-eyed in terror, struggling violently. "Here we go," he muttered, placing the wet cloth over her nose and mouth. Writhing around under his grasp she desperately tried to hold her breath.

"Get off her," Dean yelled, stamping on one of his captors feet, trying to break free.

Alex, unable to hold her breath any longer, took a deep ragged gasp feeling almost instantaneously light-headed and drowsy. Struggling hard, she breathed in again, her body slowly going numb and her eyes growing heavy. In several more breaths she couldn't feel anything, her eyes closing one last time. She slumped unmoving on the ground.

"What have you done to her?" Dean snarled through gritted teeth, hating the fact he'd had a front row seat, having had to watch powerlessly as Peters drugged Alex, unable to prevent or stop it.

"Where's you're brother?" the sheriff glared at him coldly, ignoring his question.

"What?" said Dean, temporarily confused. "He's … he's not here. He went out for food," he muttered distractedly.

"Is he up there?" the sheriff continued, pointing up at the roof. Sam, hearing this, scrambled behind a chimney as one of the townsfolk poked his head through the hole.

Dean, without realising it, held his breath watching as the guy stepped down off the chair before shaking his head muttering, "Nothing."

"Right, now will someone please shut him up!" One of the men, who had held Alex down, stood up and walked over to Dean clobbering him with the butt of a rifle, knocking him unconscious. "And find his brother!"


	8. Chapter 8: Tied Up

_Thank you guys for all the reviews. Sorry for the bit of the wait. Here's Chapter 8. I hope you enjoy. Please review. Oh and sorry I can't seem to get the ruler button to work to split the chapter into individual scene sections so it might seem to jump from one scene to another. Silly internet, (and sorry if that doesnt seem to make any sense lol)._

**Chapter 8: -****Tied up. **

Sam peered down through one of the numerous holes that had been created in the roof trying to stay out of sight and as quiet as possible. Below him, he watched as Alex was drugged and his brother was knocked unconscious by a man with a rifle.

Anger coursed through his veins as he watched them being dragged out of the remains of the motel room and back into the town, disappearing out of sight as they were dragged round the corner.

As the mob disappeared, Sam jumped nimbly down from the roof, his feet hitting the floor with a dull thud, his gun drawn. He looked round quickly, making sure the area was clear, his senses alert and highly receptive.

He climbed out of the window, hurrying through the fields towards Alex's house. He was desperate for answers and determined to hear the whole story. He needed to know how to defeat whatever it was that was cursing the town and save his brother and Alex.

Dean and Alex were dragged down the main street towards the old rundown jail.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bob shouted running out of the café as the mob hauled the pair past. "Stop this! What is wrong with you people?"

Peters looked at him before nodding towards several members of the gang who walked towards him, knocking him off his feet. They dragged him backwards into the café, one of the men, no expression on his face; hitting him over the head with a gun, knocking him out. Tying him up and gagging him, his head bleeding profusely, the gang rejoined the rest of the mob, which kept up its quick march like an army.

The mob finally came to a halt outside the small ancient jail adjacent to the town square. The sheriff and the four men dragging Dean and Alex entered the building and made their way down to the cells.

Dean was dragged over to the far side of the last cell and was thrown to the ground carelessly. One of the men lifted him up by his upper arms as Sheriff Peters applied heavy iron shackles to his wrists, chaining them to the wall above his head. The guy holding him released him, letting him slump against the cold brick wall as he started to come round.

Next, they dragged Alex over to the other side of the cell, her body collapsing to the floor with a loud thud as to the two men who had her let go.

Dean groaned at the far end as his throbbing head brought him back to reality, his face where he'd been hit with the gun, burning intensely. "Aww man," Dean cursed, as he rattled the shackles that held his hands, wincing as he squinted up at them.

"Are you going to be quiet, or do I have to gag you?" said the sheriff callously. Dean stared at him, hatred in his eyes. Peters strode over to him, whacking him over the head with his fist. "Well?"

Dean winced, his head pounding. "I'll be quiet," he conceded, thinking it better to stay awake and able to speak. He grimaced as he strained his hands against the tight heavy chains which cut painfully into his wrists.

The sheriff gave him a probing look before turning to leave the cell, returning shortly afterwards with a handful of men and women.

_'What the-'_ Dean thought, as several of the men pulled Alex to her feet, whilst the women began to remove her clothes, leaving on only her undergarments.

One of the women then bent over a lilac square box she had brought with her, opening the lid and lifting out a delicate but simple long white cloth dress. The two men holding Alex lifted her up as the woman slid the dress over her feet and up to her waist, the lower half fitting perfectly. The woman, with the help of the other, slid the dress up to her chest, one holding it up as the other undid Alex's bra clasp and slid it off her arms from under the dress. She then proceeded to push Alex's arms into the sleeves. She pulled the dress tight around Alex's limp body, doing up the zip at the back. The top half of the dress was boned and corseted, making it mould snugly to her body.

The woman then bent down again, bringing out a pair of delicate silk laced sandals, whilst the other brushed Alex's curly hair. Doing the sandals up around Alex's feet, she stood up and stepped back. "Just like her great great grandmother," she smirked with satisfaction, turning to look at Sheriff Peters. "She's ready."

The two men supporting Alex carried her over to the wall, Peters shackling one of her ankles to a chain which was set into the stone and clapped her hands together in front of her in ancient iron handcuffs. He backed away, taking one last look at her as she lay on the stone floor, before ushering the others out and turning the key in the old rusty lock, leaving Dean and Alex alone in silence.

Dean, who had watched in a shocked silence, looked over at the figure lying unmoving in a pool of moonlight which seeped through the barred window nearby. Realisation dawned on him as he looked over at the person the town was about to sacrifice.

Sam crept round the back of Alex's house, checking to make sure there were no unexpected surprises. Satisfied, he moved along the side of the house, looking for a weak spot. Deciding on the back door, he forced it open, the lock slowly splintering the wooden frame.

Once inside, he found himself in a utility room. It was an airy space with a clinical look, the only furniture being a large washing machine and tumble dryer. Piles of dirty laundry lined the floor as he made his way into the house, trying to make as little noise as possible. He was hunting and on his word he swore he wasn't going to cock it up, his brother's life depended on it.

Pushing aside the door, its creak echoed ominously around the deathly quiet hallway. Noticing light coming from the cracks around a door, Sam leant his ear in close trying to determine how many people, if any, were in the room. The only sound he heard was a distant clink as china hit a surface.

Turning the tired handle and placing a palm flat against the wooden door, he pushed it open, coming face to face with Jack, Alex's 'father.' He didn't seem to notice as the uninvited guest walked into the room slowly.

Sam inherently checked the room, his eyes scanning the area, silently memorising everything that filled the kitchen, his gaze finally stopping on the hunched figure who was staring down at the table in the far corner of the room. Sam's hand still hovering near his side where his one precious gun rested moved towards the table and cleared his throat.

Jack raised his eyes and turned his head away from the black coffee in his mug to look at the stranger who had invaded his quiet reverie. "Who are you?" he muttered gruffly, his red eyes staring into Sam's own.

Sam took a seat on one of the rickety wooden chairs and looked at him in a sombre and disconcerting way.

"What is going on here?" he said, not answering the older man's question. He needed answers and he needed them now!

The older man studied Sam in silence, a tense atmosphere choking the room. Finally looking down at his coffee, he muttered, "Trust me, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Sam gave him a piercing look, before saying, "They've taken my brother. I _need_ to know!" the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

"This town is cursed."

"How? Why?"

"We … this town committed a terrible crime two hundred years ago. We … a woman was killed … was condemned to the fiery depths of hell," Jack faltered, reeling off the words he'd read a thousand times. He stared down intently at his coffee mug.

"Elizabeth Green," Sam prompted, biting back his impatience.

"Yes … how do you know her name?-"

"That doesn't matter," Sam cut across. "What happened? Why do you think there's a curse?"

"Because this town has been condemned."

Sam shifted in his seat as he watched the older man hunch over, sagging against the table. Sam could have sworn he was aging before his eyes.

"This town killed an innocent woman! My family, this town, we've all had to live with it."

"Why do you say _your_ family?"

"Because my family … was vital to her condemnation."

Sam took out the journal he'd slipped inside his jacket and opened it, finding the ancestral tree of the town Dean had placed inside it. Following the lines from the 'death list' back up the tree, he found what he was looking for.

"It was your family that called her a witch and seducer. A crime punishable by hanging!"

John slowly nodded his head. "He had an affair, his wife found out and cried witch. At her execution, Elizabeth condemned the town which had condemned her. She said, _"Many years from now when this is all forgotten, a child will be born on this day, and she will bring with her the death of those who have brought about my death, and eternal misery to those that witnessed but offered no voice of reason and showed no mercy."_ My wife was a descendant of the woman that destroyed her life and I am a descendant of the man who betrayed her to save his own skin."

Sam stared into his eyes as Jack looked up at him grimly. He watched as the man's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Alex is the last descendant of Elizabeth," Sam said. "Her birth has caused the destruction of this town."

Jack nodded silently.

"But how is there a descendant even alive in the first place? I read that she was very young and unmarried."

Jack winced slightly. "She believed he loved her as much as she did him. Her diaries survive, telling of her love. They have been kept a secret, hidden in my family for generations as a reminder of sin. She became pregnant and he paid her to leave town. She gave birth to a daughter whom she left to the care of a nurse a few towns away from here, before returning here to meet her fate. Six men and women condemned her. Most of us that remain are dead. The curse is coming true."

The pair sat in an uncomfortable silence, Sam trying to think of a plan.

"You have to stop them, before history repeats itself," Sam said firmly.

"I can't do anything. They won't listen to me. I've tried. They've turned into mindless slaves only devoted to one thing," Jack mumbled self-pityingly.

_'And Dean?'_ Sam thought weakly. "We have to do something!" he said, composing himself.

"It's too late."

Sam sneered at the man in disgust. "Fine, if you won't, I will." He stood up fast, knocking the chair over backwards to the floor.

Jack didn't move or so much as look up. Sam scowling, stormed out of the kitchen and opened the front door, the street deserted. He ran across to the Impala which was still parked in the motel parking lot and opened the boot looking for weapons.

"Weak spineless self-centred man," Sam hissed angrily under his breath as he shoved as many guns and grenades into an empty bag as he could before hauling it over his shoulder and slamming the boot down harder than was necessary.

Looking around him, wishing he had his brother or even his father as a back up, he headed after the mob wanting to know exactly what was going to happen.

Nearly an hour past in silence as Dean struggled against his shackles to no avail. Finally, Alex began to stir, groaning slightly as she felt her cheek pressed hard against the cold stone floor, her whole body numb but at the same time burning with pins and needles.

As she began to regain control of her limbs, she struggled to sitting position, leaning her head against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing deeply with the effort. Looking down, she saw the cloth dress in the moonlight. Finding herself attired in an outfit she'd never seen before, she looked quizzically at Dean.

"You really don't want to know," he muttered, pulling on his chains with all his might struggling to break free.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "So what's the plan?" Alex asked, as she crawled away from the wall and into the circle of moonlight that spilt through the barred window. Her figure looked eerily translucent in the pale light, reminding Dean of a ghost. The chain around her ankle tautened, cutting into her skin, forcing her stop, wincing with pain.

"I'm working on it," Dean muttered under his breath, his cheeks flushing in the darkness, his eyes avoiding hers.

"You don't have a plan!" Alex exclaimed in dismay.

"Hey. I'm working on it! I'll think of something!"

"You better come up with something quick, cos if I die, you're the first person I'm coming back to haunt!"

Dean grimaced. "Nice to know," he said, as he heard the mob cheering outside.

Crouching down in a nearby alley behind several large dumpsters, Sam watched as the mob stood to attention facing the jail. He watched as the sheriff walked out of the building and faced the crowd.

"She will die at daybreak," he called out into the deathly silence which received a roar of cries and cheers.

"What about the boy?" someone in the crowd yelled.

"The boy too if he does not repent."

Sam, kneeling behind a bin muttered under his breath "That's hardly likely," knowing his brother's knack for letting his mouth run wild, often making a bad situation ten times worse. He cringed at the thought and the fact that he only had a few hours till dawn.

Peters held up his hands for quiet. "We only have a few hours till dawn. We must work together to erect the scaffold. I have the plans," he shouted, holding up a wad of old browning paper.

The crowd's roar increased and on receiving orders, filed out and began finding the pre-prepared rock, rope and timber necessary. They dragged it to a beautiful ancient oak tree which stood in the centre of the large and open town square and began to build.


	9. Chapter 9: Daybreak

_Hiya everyone. Thank you to all those who read and especially to those who have left supportive reviews. I hope you like the next installment lol. Please review. Oh and again the scene breakers for some silly reason are again not working so if the paragraphs seem to jump scenes I apologise, there is supposed to be a break there but it isn't working. Sorry, I hope it doesn't affect it too much._

**Chapter 9: - Daybreak**

Dean leant against the cold damp wall wearily, his eyes closed. His arms hung limply above him, his wrists bleeding and sore.

At the other end of the room, Alex sat curled up in the corner, her ankle cut and oozing from the shackle fixed around her leg. She stared into space, her entire body shivering under the light dress. A sombre silence filled the room as the sky began to lighten.

Hearing the clanging of the prison bars behind them and the hollow echo of footsteps reverberating around the desolate walls, the pair jumped out of their silent reveries.

Sheriff Peters and the new Deputy came into sight, followed by the two burly men who had held down Alex and drugged her the night before.

Unlocking the door and yanking it open, its hinges screaming in protest, the group walked towards Dean who pushed himself to his feet, his stiff legs shaking unsteadily. Peters undid the shackle that held his numb aching arms above his head, whilst the two burly men pinned him against the wall, not taking the chance of a lame escape attempt.

"Gerroff me man," said Dean breathlessly, his voice muffled by the two men squashing him against the wall. As Peters undid his wrists, his arms fell limply in front of him, the blood rushing back painfully to his tingling fingers.

Not speaking a word, Peters pulled out a rope and tied Dean's wrists together tightly, making him draw in a short intake of breath, wincing in spite of himself as the coarse material rubbed against his tender bleeding skin. Peters smirked in satisfaction.

As the two men backed away slightly, seizing Dean by the upper arms, he instinctively began to struggle, his eyes widening as he saw the sky breaking red on the horizon, the sun just minutes from appearing.

"Get off me," Dean struggled, as he was forcibly led out of the jail, his eyes coming into contact with the scaffold, cursing profusely under his breath.

The crowd had already gathered in front of the old oak, anticipation rife in the air. Dean was dragged over towards the oak tree seeing rope nailed to the ground.

'_What the hell,'_ Dean thought, before he was kicked behind the knees by one of the officers, his legs buckling as he collapsed to the ground. He was tied to the floor, his arms stretched out at either side of his body.

He gulped, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach, closing his eyes and remembering his mother and Jess. He lay flat on the ground looking up at the clear brightening sky in a crucifix position. Pained tears threatened to escape him. He blinked hard, trying to shrug it off. Somewhere above him, he heard Peters address the crowd.

"This boy is an accomplice to the witch," he said, pointing down at Dean with a sneer. "He will confess and beg forgiveness, or will pay the price! Tom," he said, turning to one of the oversized hunks of meat behind him.

Tom lifted up a slab of heavy rock and placed it squarely on Dean's chest.

"Confess," Peters spat, as he looked down at Dean's determined face.

"Confess what?" Dean smirked, keeping up his outward bravado but inwardly thinking, '_Where the hell are you Sammy!'_

Sam broke the back window of a large house which overlooked the sea a mile up the road from the square as the mob departed. Climbing in and falling to the floor in a heap, he looked around him desperately, finding himself in a kitchen. Crawling along the floor, he stopped in front of an old fashioned gas cooker and pulled it away from the wall.

Leaning round it with his tall slender frame, he yanked at the gas pipe, ripping it away from the back of the cooker. The break allowed gas to leak into the room, a thick choking cloud of it rapidly filling the kitchen. Hearing a distant cheer, his stomach filled with dread. He set the central heating timer on the wall for five minutes, giving himself just enough time to get out and up to the square.

Peters nodded at Tom, another heavy slab being placed on top of Dean's chest. Dean simply grinned, infuriating the sheriff who gave the order for another two slabs to be added to the first two. The smile on Dean's face faltered slightly as the pressure on his chest increased and his fight for air became more and more difficult.

A roaring jeer erupted into the air, making Dean turn his head towards the jail. His eyes widened as his gaze fell on Alex, who was being dragged out, her hands tied behind her back with thick rope, a small snippet of pink cherry tree blossom placed in her dark curly hair. The sky above was a deep and fiery red, the sun seconds away from rearing its magnificent head.

Alex was dragged towards him and the imposing platform. Their eyes connected for only a second, horror and terror screaming behind hers as the Deputy and another officer hauled her past him and up to the platform, placing the noose around her neck and tightening it.

Sam raced along a side street towards the town square. He crept along the side of a quaint little brasserie, peering around the side just in time to see Alex being dragged towards a scaffold which stood against an old oak tree in the centre of the square, in a very old fashioned-looking dress.

Scanning the square for Dean, all he could find was a small group of burly men surrounding two piles of large slabs. Watching closely, noticing Alex hesitate as she past them, his eyes widened in horror. He could just make out an arm protruding from under one of the piles of slabs.

Sam glanced down at his watch in desperation hissing, "Come on!"

Alex looked down over the blood-thirsty crowd feeling frightened and vulnerable. The rope holding her hands behind her back bit deeply, rubbing the skin red raw and causing numerous cuts and abrasions.

Biting down on her bottom lip, the rope around her neck pressing uncomfortably against her throat, she looked down at the hungry crowd. A commotion began at the back of the square. Squinting against the harsh light, she saw Jack forcing his way roughly through the crowd, his tired drawn face filled with stubborn determination.

"Stop this!" he shouted, as he fought his way to the front, struggling hard against the army of people. "Stop this now. It's not too late!"

The newly appointed Deputy stepped forwards into the crowd and shoved him back.

"Get off me," he spat. "She didn't do anything!"

The angry mob grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away from the platform, throwing him towards a corner of the square. Others stepped into the fray, beating him savagely with whatever they could lay their hands on.

Alex watched in anguish as the mob beat him until he lay unmoving on the floor in a pool of blood totally unrecognisable. The savagery sickened her to the stomach, their lies, deceit and hatred firing up their bloodthirsty volatile hearts. Looking at Peters desperately, he simply turned his head, letting mob law rule.

Dean groaned on the floor a short distance away from her as the seventh slab was added, his ribs bowing under the ever increasing pressure. Alex looked at his strained sweaty face tearfully, her scared eyes burning with desperate determination as the sun broke the horizon, the fiery light illuminating her on the platform.

Her eyes burned with fury as she watched the man who'd piled on the crushing slabs back away. She watched him in bitter distain as he smirked at what lay before him. Her hatred bit angrily at every inch of her soul as she concentrated on him, his big sweaty muscles, his revolting haggard face and his sneer. She detested every part of him, her distain coursing through her veins like a pounding volcano, her eyes boring into him as he stood there, her attention focused and unmoving.

The man twitched slightly, the sneer faltering as his arms clenched and relaxed at his sides, perspiration pouring down his red face. He glanced at his hands, a perplexed and confused look replacing the smirk.

Alex looked Dean in the eye, a weak smile briefly gracing her lips. '_Hold on,'_ she thought, as she turned her concentration on Tom. He responded by shifting forwards slightly and pushing the top two slabs off Dean's chest, causing a shift in attention. The sudden burst of violence subsided, the town turning its attention to look at Tom in frozen wonder as he pushed the other slabs off and began to undo one of the ropes that restrained Dean's right wrist as Dean coughed, gulping down the cool air in relief.

The sheriff recovering first, looked from Tom to Alex, a shrewd expression etched across his face.

"She's bewitched him," came the roar from the crowd as hysteria began to take hold. The sheriff leapt up the steps onto the platform a wild look in his eyes as he pushed her off the edge.

The force of the fall yanked the noose chokingly around her neck, her concentration faltering. Her feet flailed out wildly trying to find the ground, the weight of her body slowly strangling her. She gagged weakly against the rope, fighting in vain for air as the world began to spin and distort, her eyes rolling from lack of oxygen. The crowd below cheered emphatically.

From behind them, a massive explosion rocked the square, drowning out the cheers. The mob spun round, cries filling the air as one of the oldest houses in the town burnt to the ground. People began to run towards it as Sam, who stayed hidden behind the Brasserie, muttered, "About bloody time!"

Dean, taking his chance, hurriedly undid the rope holding his other arm and the ropes holding his legs, looking up anxiously at Alex whose struggles were becoming weaker and more and more infrequent, her body slowly shutting down as the rope tightened its strangle hold.

Sam jumped out from his hiding place, weaving through the frantic crowd, running towards Dean who knocked out an officer who was trying to restrain him.

In the mayhem, the sheriff looked back as he raced across the square with the crowd. His eyes widened as he skidded to a halt, some of the crowd crashing into him as he started back on himself. "They're getting away!" he yelled. The confused and angry mob turned back, charging straight at them.

"DEAN!" said Sam, grabbing an axe from his bag and chucking it at Dean's feet. He then threw a grenade at the Brasserie causing it to explode and slow down the advancing crowd.

"Get the car," Dean ordered, as he picked up the axe, his other hand clutching his tender, badly bruised ribs. He pushed his way through the confusion, leaping up the steps to the platform and taking a swing with the axe at the rope wrapped around the tree.

The rope snapped, whipping round the tree as it unravelled, sending Alex plunging to the ground, her knees buckling beneath her, the noose still chokingly tight. Struggling to breathe, her hands tied behind her back, Alex's eyes rolled in her head as she lay semi-conscious on the floor, her lips turning blue, her face drained.

Dean dropped the axe with a clunk and leapt off the stage, crouching beside her. Lifting her head up off the ground and holding her against him, he loosened the noose, tugging it off her head as she coughed and took a wheezy breath.

"Come on," he muttered, picking her up in his arms as the Impala screeched to a halt behind the old oak. He made for the car at a run as the mob, having picked their way through the remains of the brasserie, chased after them.

Sam leant across the passenger seat and pushed the door open. Dean jumped in gratefully with Alex still in his arms, her head lolling against him weakly, muttering "Bob" as oxygen rushed through her veins to her brain, the spinning sensation beginning to recede.

Sam floored the accelerator as Dean slammed the door shut, the Impala's tires screaming against the tarmac as they rounded the corner, heading for the beachside café.

Skidding to a halt outside the back door of the café, hidden from the sight of the main road, Sam leapt out of the car.

"You gonna be okay here," Dean muttered, as Alex climbed off his lap and sat down on the back seat, rubbing her neck gingerly. She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching with a smile as Dean got out, closing the door behind him. "We won't be long."

Alex watched the pair pull open the back door and disappear from sight. She sat curled up on the back seat, her mind reeling with everything that had happened. Her throat throbbed, the rope having ripped away the smooth delicate skin, leaving it badly bruised and bleeding.

Glancing down, her hand running over the smooth upholstery, she noticed an old battered journal lying near her feet. Picking it up gently, she opened it, a crumpled piece of paper sliding out of it. Opening the journal to the page it had fallen out from and unfolding the paper she stared down at the ancestral tree of the town and a note scribbled on the bottom of it. Tilting her head slightly, her eyes widened as she read the '_Death List.'_ Scanning the list of names, all were dead bar one, herself. Glancing back at the journal entry, she skimmed through it and, looking overleaf, found a picture of herself and her mother, taken on her seventh birthday.

Looking back at the crumpled paper and turning it over, she glanced over the additional scribbled notes, reading, _Alex – descendant of Elizabeth Green. Curse – her birth – same day as execution. _

Looking into the wing mirror, she stared at her pale reflection, a tear twinkling in the sunlight. _I'm the only one left_, she thought.

Picking the journal up off her lap and placing it back on the seat; she pushed the back door open and stumbled out. Looking back at the café door, she turned away, walking towards the cliff.


	10. Chapter 10: Reality Knocks

**_Hands round cookies. I hope you enjoy this one. Let me know what you guys think._**

**Chapter 10: - Reality Knocks.**

Sam found Bob tied behind the bar, dry crusty blood matted in his silvery hair and across his face. "Here," he said, drawing a knife out of his back pocket and beginning to hack away at the rope.

"Where's Alex?" Bob mumbled, as Dean walked into view. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Dean muttered, bending down to help Sam.

Bob let out a relieved sigh. "Thank god. Your father would have killed me."

Sam and Dean stopped, pulling back and looking the older man in the face.

"How do you know our father?" they exclaimed, the knife in Sam's hand forgotten.

"He asked me to come here and keep an eye on things a couple of years ago. Didn't you know?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other perplexed.

"But-" Sam began, confused.

"Dana, Alex's mother phoned him a few years ago asking for his help. He sent me to keep an eye on things and to let him know if things changed."

"Dana?" said Dean, his mind spinning. "What the hell's going on?"

Bob looked at the pair confused by their lack of knowledge. "You are John Winchester's kids aren't ya?"

"Yes," said Sam nervously.

"Well your father helped me out a long time ago. You know he has connections right?"

"Yes, of course," said Dean.

"Well I felt I was in his debt so did this job for him as a favour. He helped me out of an extremely tricky situation. Was the least I could do."

"And Dana?" said Sam, trying to digest this new information.

"Dana was living in Missouri about twenty years ago. Your father was hunting anything and everything supernatural after your mother died, and he came across these shapeshifters. Nasty little buggers apparently. Don't you remember them Dean? I'm guessing you wouldn't Sam, you were probably very young. But I'm surprised you don't Dean. You'd have been about seven or eight right?"

Dean scowled. "I remember them. Dad wouldn't take me on the hunt, said it was too dangerous, so I got stuck babysitting Sam."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but Dean just shrugged. Tension crackled between them before Bob hastily continued.

"Anyway they met there. He saved her life. She phoned him out of the blue about four years ago and John asked me to watch over the family, wanted me to keep an eye on things and I agreed. Nothing unusual happened till a week ago when Dana died. I phoned him straight after I heard Alex's version of events."

"Why didn't you tell us this when we got here?" said Sam.

"I wasn't sure who you were till Seth and Adam died and people began to talk. You seemed to take it like it was nothing out of the ordinary so I guessed you must be John's sons."

Sam glanced at Dean, who raised his eyebrow shrugging.

"I don't mean to be rude, but could you untie me please," said Bob, as he struggled against the rope. "I don't want to be here if that mob returns."

Sam leant forwards, muttering "Sorry," as he cut through the bindings.

"Thanks," Bob replied, rubbing his sore wrists and pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.

Dean gave him a hand as they walked out to the kitchen and over to the back door. Pulling it open, Sam let the older man and his brother out before him. Dean came to a halt, Bob and Sam crashing into him as he stared at the Impala.

"Where's Alex?" he said, turning to look at the others.

Sam walked past Dean and over to the Impala, finding his father's journal lying open next to the crumpled ancestral tree.

Dean, shaking his head in annoyance, thinking he should not have left her on her own, looked around him and out over the cliffs beyond. Seeing her walking up the grassy slope, her white dress blowing in the breeze as she headed for the cliff top, he started after her at a run, shouting "Shit."

"Dean wait," Sam yelled, opening the boot and taking out a handful of weapons. "Bob get in the car and stay there!"

Bob, whose head was spinning from the nasty head injury he'd received the night before, obeyed, flopping into the back and leaning against the seat, his eyes closed too.

Sam slammed the boot shut and chased after Alex and his brother. "Wait," he called.

Dean raced up the cliff as fast as his battered body would allow. His heart was pounding against his chest as the over exertion ripped through every muscle of his body.

"Stop," he shouted, when he was within hearing distance of Alex.

Alex glanced back at him, her eyes flashing a shocking unnatural blue as she clutched her stomach and grimaced. "Go away Dean," she pleaded, backing away from him.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked at him, a sneer consuming her face as her eyes changed colour glinting wildly. Dean took a step back, reaching down for the gun he didn't have. Alex grinned at him callously, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt. "I warned you," she hissed maliciously, before throwing him away from her. He was launched into the air and thrown a good ten metres before hitting a tree, crumpling to the floor unconscious.

"No," Sam shouted, as he ran after them, lunging at Alex who simply brushed him aside.

She backed away struggling to regain control of herself. She clutched her stomach as her eyes changed from the electric blue to aqua-marine. "Stay away Sam. I don't think I can control it much longer." Sam watched as her watery eyes changed colour several times.

"What-" he tried.

"It's her," she whispered breathlessly.

Sam watched, his face creased up in concern. "What are you gonna do?" he said. Alex stared at him knowing he knew the answer. "But-"

"You burnt her bones, her spirit's still here, attached to me."

"How do you-"

Alex raised her eye brow. "Do you really need to ask?" she said, smiling weakly, her eyes connecting with his. She moved to turn away.

"Don't," said Sam, grabbing her arm.

Alex doubled over in pain, her skin white hot. "Owww," she groaned, her eyes watering. Sam stumbled backwards, flinching as he removed his burnt hand in shock. "Get out of here _please_!" she begged, her eyes changing colour again, burning bright blue.

He backed away from her cautiously, his other hand moving instinctively to where his gun rested in the back of his jeans. Alex waved her hand aside, knocking him to the floor, the gun shooting across the grassy bank away from him. She stalked towards him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to his feet, looking into his eyes.

The grip around his wrist was like a clamp, blocking the blood flow to his tingling hand, her eyes prying into his very soul.

"You're quite the tragic little hero aren't you?" she cackled.

"Shut up," he said, trying to drag his eyes away from hers.

"What's the matter college boy?" she sneered, her eyes dancing. "Feeling sorry for yourself now?"

"Let go of me Elizabeth!" he warned, looking into Alex's eyes.

"Clever, very clever," she snapped.

"Leave Alex alone," he continued, pressing his luck and wishing he had some salt.

"Umm let me think. How about no!" she spat, her grip around his arm tightening, her eyes glinting dangerously.

His wrist began to burn white hot under her grip making him let out a strangled scream.

She grinned at him. "Why couldn't you just die like the others," she sighed.

"That was you," he hissed through gritted teeth, wincing with pain. "Down on the beach."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Unfortunately Alex saved you. She still has to learn what men are really like."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam snapped, struggling to free his blistering arm.

Elizabeth looked him in the eye with a piercing and probing look. He let out a yell of pain, his legs buckling beneath him as he sank to his knees, clutching his head with his free hand.

"What's wrong Sammy? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?"

Sam's face contorted in pain, his body writhing in agony. Tormented tears trickled down his face; his head feeling like it would explode. Grinning down at him, she pried into his deeply hidden and concealed memories, memories of pain and anguish, memories of his visions and worst nightmares, and memories of his mom and Jess.

"You killed her … your girlfriend, she whispered contemptuously. "You men are all the same. You lust after and destroy everything. You know nothing of love."

Sam lay writhing on the floor, terror surging through his veins as he watched Jess burst into flames in his mind.

"You've lost all the women close to you and you're about to lose the last one!" She backed away from him, not letting up Sam's torture. "This town will die! And so will she!"

Her eyes flashed and changed colour, Alex struggling to regain control. "No!" she shouted through clenched teeth, trying to break Elizabeth's grip. Looking down at Sam who lay on the ground at her feet, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before Elizabeth could regain control. She turned away, stumbling as she climbed up the cliff.

Sam watched her go helplessly as he lay unable to move in agony on the soft sweet-smelling grass. From his right, he heard a low moan. Tilting his head to the side, he saw Dean, a nasty gash across his face, trying to sit up, pain contorting his features.

"Sam," he groaned, as he forced himself to his feet and touched the wound gingerly.

"Yeah?" Sam grimaced, drawing in a sharp breath of air.

Dean, shaking off his drowsiness, looked over at his brother's writhing body. Eyes widening, he half crawled half stumbled his way over to Sam's side, cradling his little brother's face in his hands as he leant down beside him. "What happened Sammy? Talk to me. What did she do to you?"

"DEAN!" Sam butted in, looking into his brother's face through tear-blurred eyes. "Shut up and listen. It's love … it's the key."

"Oh man, please don't go all chick flick on me. You'll be fine," he muttered, looking into Sam's tortured face.

Sam grimaced. "Dean … the spirit … Elizabeth … she wants vengeance … she hates men."

"Ah no man, not a nineteenth century pissed off feminist," Dean groaned, looking both perplexed and slightly amused at the idea.

Sam, though still having to relive his worst memories, managed to thump him.

"What?" Dean exclaimed with a grin.

"She was never shown any kind of love or affection by a guy. She's angry, Get it?"

"Great," said Dean. "And how am I supposed to show affection to a hormonally imbalanced spirit who has a tendency to cause death and destruction and also likes to possess people?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "There's more than one type of love Dean."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam shuddered involuntarily, clutching his head. "Dean!" he breathed.

Dean, holding Sam's face in his outstretched hands for one last lingering moment, looked down at his younger brother with nothing but love and absolute devotion. Pushing himself to his feet, he muttered, "Hang on Sammy." Tearing his eyes away from him, he ran up the cliff after Alex as fast as his battered body would permit.

"Alex stop!" he shouted, as she reached the cliff edge. He ran towards her as she turned round.

'_Aww man_,' he thought. '_This slushy stuff is Sam's forte, not mine.'_ An awkward tension filled the air as Dean slowed to a breathless walk and stopped in front of her.

Alex looked at him questioningly. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to avoid eye contact. '_Damn it Sammy,'_ he thought.

"Look your brother's dying down there," she tried, pleadingly.

Dean gulped down hard, not knowing what to do, hating his awkwardness that couldn't be hidden by his normal cheeky manner. Gently, he reached out and touched her arm, feeling the cool soft skin beneath his fingers. He reached forwards, drawing her to him in a hug, delicately kissing her forehead and whispering in her ear, "There are people who'll miss you greatly if you do this."

Alex leant her cheek gently against his shoulder. "Thank you," she breathed. Drawing back from him, her sparkling eyes looking up into his own, her face fell as she let out a desperate gasp and lost her balance.

"NO!" Dean shouted.


	11. Chapter 11: Let Go

_Okay here's the final chapter. I hope you like it. It's slightly shorter than the others. Thanks again to all those who have read and especially those who have reviewed. Thank you!_

**Chapter 11: - Let Go.**

Dean leapt forwards reaching out to grab her as she fell over the edge. Grasping her in his arms he yanked her back, pulling her away from the jagged rocks, a wave of relief settling over him. Alex wavered weakly in his arms, before her body locked and she drew in a raspy breath, her eyes staring at him petrified. Dean looked at her, a scared look of desperation etched across his handsome face as he looked at her not knowing what to do.

Suddenly she threw her head back, arching towards the heavens as her whole body strained and shook, her legs struggling to support her weight. Dean, straining to hold her upright, looked at her deeply unnerved as her skin grew hot to the touch and her body began to glow blue.

She let out a deep and ragged breath, as a stiff breeze swirled around them and rustled through her hair. The blue glow grew brighter, streams of glowing blue light flowing up from the town below as Elizabeth's spirit was ripped away from those she had touched, her influence over them breaking as the streams flowed back into Alex and out of her heart, the light spinning around her and Dean.

Dean let out an involuntary yell as Alex's skin burnt white hot under his touch by the force of the repelled spirit. The blue light whirled around them with increased rapidity before it was channelled back into Alex. She threw her arms out from her, the spirit erupting from her chest as it was forced up towards the stars, exploding into nothingness overhead. A single tear cascaded down her cheek as she crumpled limply in Dean's arms.

The pain in Sam's head was intensifying as he watched his brother run blindly after Alex. The images he was forced to relive seemed to be sped up, fast forwarded as he watched the onslaught of memories he had never been able to suppress.

'_Hurry,'_ he pleaded silently to his brother, as his eyes swam with tears, his head feeling like it would explode under the rapid pressure of Elizabeth's torture.

Kneading his temples as he looked up at the clear blue sky, his mind froze, the intensity of the images paralysed. Frozen in shock, he struggled to move his aching muscles. Gingerly, he forced himself to roll over on to his front so he could push himself onto his knees. Looking down at himself, a blue glowing light swirled around him gently before drifting away from him and flowing up to the cliff top. His jaw dropped open as he watched, the torturous images that had consumed his mind, abating. He saw more streams of the illuminating light joining his own and making their way with increasing rapidity towards the cliff edge.

Sam struggled to his feet, looking first down towards the town from which the light was radiating to the cliff top where it was gathering. Staggering forwards, he clambered and stumbled up the steep slope, his head aching and his muscles throbbing. As he neared the top, he heard an incredible roaring and his brother's yell.

"DEAN!" he shouted, forcing his weary legs to move faster as he raced up to the cliff top, something exploding up ahead. "DEAN!" he shouted again, as he climbed the last few feet, his lungs screaming in protest.

Ahead of him, he saw Dean looking down sombrely at Alex, who hung limply in his arms. Moving slowly Dean slid a hand up under her head as he lay her down gently on the ground, moving his ear next to her mouth, listening for a sign of life. Sam ran towards them, falling to his knees beside the pair.

"What happened?" he gasped breathlessly.

"She's not breathing," said Dean, as he moved his ear away from her and checked for a pulse, barely feeling one.

"Shit," Sam muttered, not used to dealing with what most people would call '_normal'_ emergencies.

Dean leant forwards, tilting Alex's head back and blowing air into her lungs. Alex didn't respond. "Come on … breathe damn it," Dean said through clenched teeth, as he blew air into her lungs again and looked for any kind of a response.

"Nothing," said Sam, as he placed his hand over her mouth. He checked for her pulse, feeling it fading away beneath his fingertips. "Shit," he said looking up at Dean, despair evident in his eyes. "We're losing her."

"No," Dean growled through gritted teeth, starting chest compressions. "Come on," he urged determinedly, blowing air into her lungs for a third time. "Don't you dare give up on us now!"

Sam watched his brother's desperation as he continued to blow air into her lungs and did chest compressions. Sam shook his head again, as Alex failed to respond.

"No … Not again!" Dean said in a strangled voice, remembering all the people he hadn't saved. Ten minutes of breathing assistance had failed to help Alex breathe on her own.

'_Just let go,'_ a voice in Dean's head reasoned. "I wouldn't," he growled determinedly under his breath, as he looked at Sam knowing he would never give up on his younger brother. "Breathe," he whispered, as he leant forward to Alex. "I won't give up on you!"

He blew air into her lungs again as he closed his eyes trying to remember what he had seen done on ER. Remembering snippets of the show, he performed a precardial thump on her chest. The force of his fist colliding with her chest sent shockwaves through her weak body. As he again started compressions, her lungs drew in a sharp breath, instinctively reacting to the sudden violent pressure his fist had caused on them. Her heart, responding to the sudden rush of oxygen, began to pulsate again weakly. Her lungs, struggling to cope, shuddered violently fighting to breathe in enough air to awaken her oxygen-starved brain.

She coughed violently, wheezing with the sudden influx of oxygen that rushed through her exhausted system, her eyes slowly fluttering open, squinting in the harsh sunlight, watering. Dean pulled her into a relieved hug as she continued to gulp down air, her eyes wide with fright.

"Thought we'd lost you for a minute there," he said softly with a smile. "You okay."

Alex nodded weakly, unable to speak, as she rested against his muscular frame continuing to breathe raggedly, her pulse becoming stronger.

Sam let out a relieved sigh as Alex's body began to recover, a calm and peaceful silence settling over the trio. Alex finally broke it as she looked into Sam's tired and drained face.

"I'm sorry for what I umm … well Elizabeth said," she muttered tentatively. "About Jess."

"You remember all that?" Sam exclaimed, his face creased up with sadness, guilt coursing through his veins.

"It's not your fault you know," she smiled sadly. "Neither one of you could have stopped what happened to Jess or your mom."

'_Yeah right,'_ Dean thought bitterly.

"Really!" said Alex, pulling away from him and looking into his face. "Don't be a smart ass."

"What? I didn't say anything," Dean said, looking at her sheepishly.

"But you just said-" Alex began, anxiously looking at Sam for support. He shook his head. "Then how … NOOO!" she exclaimed, shaking her head at Sam in alarm. "Hell no!"

"Can you hear what I'm thinking right now?" said Sam, as he thought of his vision, the vision that had brought them here.

Alex's eyes shone with sadness. "Please don't think that," she whispered, remembering the choking smoke which had filled her lungs as she watched her mother die.

Dean looked between the pair. "Great," he said, trying to break the tension. "I'm stuck between Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

Sam smiled faintly, clouting his brother over the head with the palm of his uninjured hand.

"What?" Dean laughed. "At least I won't ever feel the need to call a psychic hotline! I've got one in the family and another not far away."

Alex cracked an uneasy smile, the air around them sighing in relief.

"Come on," Dean said, pushing himself to his feet and gently picking up Alex, who still felt extremely wobbly. We left Bob in the car."

They began to walk slowly back to the café, Dean grimacing slightly from his injuries as he carried Alex down the slope. "So umm," Alex began nervously. "Why am I able to hear what you guys are thinking?"

Sam, his brow furrowed, muttered, "I'm not sure."

"Do you think I've been left with her … powers?"

Dean shook his head, feeling his chest groan uneasily and thinking back to the slabs and the beach. "I think they were yours all along," he smiled. "You saved our lives. If they were hers you wouldn't have been strong enough to use them against her will."

"It all started around your eighteenth birthday right?" Sam said, thinking about how his powers had suddenly started. "Maybe your powers started when you reached adulthood for a reason."

"To try to counteract the curse," Dean finished for him.

Sam looked at him with an amused expression on his face. "Dude, are you sure you don't have some telepathic ability," he grinned. "You seem to know what I'm thinking."

Alex laughed as Dean's colour rose and he thumped Sam in the shoulder with Alex's feet.

A couple of hours later Alex threw the last of her bags onto the back seat of her Jeep and closed the door. Turning back to Sam and Dean, she smiled.

"So, what you gonna do now?" said Sam breaking the silence.

"I think I'm gonna look for my real father," she said, glancing down at the ring on her bracelet which had belonged to her mother.

"Good luck with that," said Dean. "They have a habit of not wanting to be found."

Alex smiled, leaning forwards and hugged each of them in turn before climbing into the front seat of her car. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime," she smiled, as she turned on the engine.

"Yeah maybe," Dean said with a smile.

"You have our number if you ever need anything," said Sam.

She gave them one last lingering look before reversing out onto the road and disappearing out of sight, Sam and Dean watching her go.

Turning back to where the Impala was parked, Dean reached into his pocket for the keys. Climbing in and pulling off the curb onto the road, they headed towards the Interstate.

"What you thinking about?" said Dean, glancing at Sam who was unnaturally quiet.

"Nothing much man … just something Alex … Elizabeth said."

"You gonna elaborate on that?" Dean muttered, raising his eyebrow as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel to Metallica.

"Nah man, just drive," he replied, thinking over Elizabeth's words. _'You've lost all the women in your lives and you're about to lose the last one.'_


End file.
